The Devil's In The Details
by undeadpufferfish
Summary: While imprisoned in his cage, Rumpelstiltskin strikes a deal with Fiona who's curious about her alternate self. Implied Rumpelstiltskin/Alternate Fiona and maybe some Rumpelstiltskin/Fiona
1. The Deal

**A/N: ** Please read ** **Hey! So, I was bored and wrote this a bit ago. I'm not much of a writer, but I thought I'd give it a shot. This is my first fanfiction I've ever submitted. Written on and off for a few years on different fandoms and shared with friends who've told me I was pretty decent. I've been reading into just about anything that catches my interest on this site for several years on another account and created a new one just for writing a few of my own. I'm a slow writer, so updates might be a week or so in between, but with lots of reviews, I'm sure I can write faster.So anyway, comments, corrections, suggestions, flames, death threats, etc. are all welcome! Enjoy, and review!

**** If you ignored the above, you really need to read this ** **This takes place a while after Shrek 4 where the viewer is left to believe that Rumpelstiltskin's left hanging in the cage outside Shrek's house. We never did find out how long his punishment was, and if at all he was moved to a more suitable dungeon. So... yeah. I ran with that. It centers around Rumpelstiltskin and might only be a handful of chapters long. Not sure if it's going to be a romance, but it smells like one so far.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Shrek, Dreamworks or y'know... whatever.**

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Looking out for the small details in life is generally good practice, since it greatly reduces the risk of surprises. While some surprises are pleasant, most would consider them a hindrance. Surprises like... True Love, for example. So powerful, it can overcome all those trifling little details. It magically erases all the troubles in life, as if they had never happened. It breaks free of all restraints. Free of rules. Tears contracts in two. Rips reality into shreds at the first, chaste kiss.

Null and void. Exit clauses.

But the thing with True Love... well... it's as rare as rocking horse shit. He was so confident in his cleverness, he didn't think the details would be such a big deal. The details were just that; details that had to be written. It did cause _some_ worry; if only as a precaution since it was hard to imagine anyone falling in love in twenty-four hours. Not the 'I love vanilla ice cream' sort of love, that's easy enough to accomplish in a short span of time... but _True Love_... it was something he had underestimated. And it had cost him dearly.

And as it went, Rumpelstiltskin had plenty of time on his hands to entertain such brooding thoughts what with all the hours with nothing to do while serving his punishment in a cage for an undetermined amount of time. At first, he had raged and screamed against the bars. Shouted threats and insults to the leering tourists. Even pissed on one of them, although looking back on it, it did more harm then good since it was particularly windy that day. But as time passed, his anger cooled away; dampened by the endless days of his incarceration. Only a bitter taste was left in his mouth; a simmering hate where he wouldn't be bothered to waste the energy with rude gestures at those filthy ogres anymore. He could no longer recall just how long he had been imprisoned and only noticed the passing of time with the seasons.

How long _has_ it been? It felt as if it were only yesterday he had lived a whole life in Shrek's alternate reality full of luxury and power. Wealth and fine dining. Women and wine. Parties that would stretch long into the night where everyone would do anything just to earn his favor or a seat by his side. It was intoxicating, it was bliss, it was his own dream come true. And it was all undone in a day with the rising sun and now... nothing. No more wigs. No more parties with eloquent meals. No more power. Nothing but cold steel, mosquitoes, and jeering laughter through the bars of his cage. And even then, the tourists have dwindled after the insults had lost their luster.

On the best of days; which weren't many, the only small pleasure he'd have is the rain sleuthing down his scalp to give him some relief from the heat of the swamp. His meals consisted of hardened bread and water. Fruits and vegetables were now a delicacy when tourists felt the need to stop and pelt him with it. But now, he is... forgotten. The tourists no longer come to laugh and a small part of him can't help but miss it. It was _something_ in the nothing of all he had left to him. Now his name is nothing more than a hazy memory, rusted away along with the bars that entrap him.

His only company over the many weeks and probably many, many months... are those filthy ogres; his only jailors. At first, Shrek would only come by to gloat and have a few laughs on his way to the outhouse and his wife would give him his meals in stony silence. Then as time passed, a few comments. Some small talk. Eventual conversation. No matter how much Rumpelstiltskin loathed the pair of them and their sniveling brats... he couldn't help but swallow his pride and even look forward to further conversation since it kept him from going insane. You've got to hold onto _something_ when you've nothing else.

If it took ages for Shrek to say more than a few words to him, it look twice as long for Fiona. You'd think with those filthy animals she calls children, she wouldn't bat an eye at bringing him his meals occasionally with a smile, but that was not the case. She was standoffish and cold; as if it were a chore best left undone. It was the only thing that reminded him of the Fiona he used to know in his other life. The proud, strong warrior that would often upset his plans with her revolutionary plots. His... _opponent_. She made it quite obvious that she despised him, so it came as a sudden shock to him when she finally spoke one morning when she brought him his meager breakfast nearly one year after his incarceration.

"What was I like?" she asked suddenly, her hand still gripping his goblet.

"Sorry?" He blinked at her dumbly, voice hoarse from lack of use. It was the first time she had ever spoken to him and for a moment, he doubted his hearing. Being locked up in a cage all the time has that effect.

"The... the _other_ Fiona. The one you knew," her face was set hard, brows furrowed together in a familiar way he could recall perfectly... maybe if he squinted hard enough, he could_ possibly_ see the similarities...

No. _This_ Fiona was so very different. Hell only knows how much time he's spent watching them all to know them well enough; bored out of his mind. This Fiona was full of easy laughter and spirit whereas the other only had cold looks and calculating resentment. Where this one saw things with the love of life, the other only saw anarchy and battle grounds. It was hard to decide which one was the stronger... and which one he loathed more.

"You were..." he paused; wondering what to say. That never happened. He _always_ knew just what to say, what lies or petty compliments to spin and sucker people into his deceit. Had he forgotten how to play his game?

"_She – _was... strange," he said at last to her puzzled expression. He didn't feel the need to further explain himself. She can make of it what she wants, give him his shit for food, and go the hell away for all he cares.

"_Strange_?" Fiona echoed with a frown; nose all scrunched up to one side. "That's all?"

"That's all I -" and here Rumpelstiltskin paused again; struck with the old fervor. It's just like riding a bike after all. " - unless... we can strike a _deal_, hmm?"

"Do I look stupid to you?"

He could hope.

"_No_ – no, contracts. I'm not asking for _much_," he rushed with a practiced smile before she would leave him hanging... quite literally. "I'd just like a nice, hot meal."

"And what if you're lying?"

"I'll give you my word tha-"

"Your _word_ counts for nothing," she cut him off with a roll of her eyes.

Right at that moment, Rumpelstiltskin was taken aback with a sudden wave of déjà vu. Once upon a time, in another world much like this one, Fiona had said the very same thing.

"_Really_?" he drawled with mild interest. "Last I heard, I always gave everyone exactly what they wanted. I _helped_ people."

"Oh sure – at a price that suited _you_," she snorted, hand placed at her hip in a good impression of the woman he used to know and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but wonder vaguely if she ever lets her hair down... "That's not helping, that's swindling."

"You can't make something from nothing," he shrugged and broke bread; no point putting off his meal because she felt the need to rave at him. "For everything you lose, you gain something. For everything you gain, you lose something else. _Nothing_ is free."

If he had to be honest with himself, it mattered little to him if she accepts or not. He'll still be locked up anyway. She considered him for a moment, still gripping his goblet with that sour frown on her face. Rumpelstiltskin inwardly fumed his impatience as he chewed down his pitiful meal as best as he could. He could really, really use that water right about now but she kept weighing her decision and he knew opening his mouth at this very moment could blow it. All she gains would be a bit of entertainment; regardless if he lies, and all she loses would be an hour or so cooking him a real meal. A fair exchange. No sinister plots behind it at all. Harmless.

"One meal's enough?" Fiona said sharply, catching his gaze once more.

"Having enough – " he coughed lightly, bread scraping dryly down his throat. "- never stopped anyone from wanting more. Give me a hot meal a _day_, and I'll give you a story a day about what I knew of her."

"That wasn't what we first agreed to!"

"Ah, ah, aah!" He waved a finger sharply, rakish grin flashing despite himself. "_You – _didn't agree to anything! Now, I'm offering a _new_ deal for the hassle."

Fiona eyed him coolly, goblet of water still out of reach, and Rumpelstiltskin waited. He pulled from memory what he hoped was a well meaning smile, but it probably turned out into something of a grimace. Being locked up in a cage for so many months erodes such things like smiling. Go figure.

"I'll pass," Fiona said bluntly, scraping the goblet through the bars before turning away without another word.

No. That will not do. He could practically _taste_ a bowl of beef stew, fresh breads, and steamed vegetables; maybe even tall glass of ale to moisten his lips. He could hardly remember what his last real meal was! He wanted it;_ needed_ something... just _something_ to make his wretched existence less chaffing. Just _why_ did she want to know about the other one anyway? Ages have passed! Why does it matter?

And then a thought struck him.

"Wait –!" Rumpelstiltskin called out after her; goblet forgotten. She sighed her frustration and paused, turning to face him. "You want to know if she was better then you... am I right?"

Fiona visibly stiffened; only the barest flicker of emotion clouded her eyes. She said nothing, but Rumpelstiltskin knew he had hit the nail on the head. He's always had a particular talent for knowing just what people want. Everyone wants something, and there's nothing wrong in wanting, but usually everyone's better off just wanting and never getting. But that's the thing, isn't it? No one understands how wants aren't necessarily _needs_. Somethings are just straw and somethings are gold, and sometimes you just have to know the difference.

"Maybe she... caught your husbands eye in a way _you_ didn't, hmm?" Rumpelstiltskin continued, knowing that right now is the perfect time to keep talking and run with it. "Was she more beautiful? Was she loved more? Was she respected, _listened_ to?"

Fiona's silence was his only reply and somewhere in their filthy hovel, the sound of a dish clattered on the floor. She paid no attention; her eyes fixed on his.

"I'm sure Shrek's talked about her before... hard _not_ to," he mused with a wistful sort of look, almost like coy admiration. "She was ... _something_. But he hasn't told you everything. I can tell you, you know. I gain nothing lying to you..." And this much was true. He's way more honest then people give him credit for. Now, tricking... well... that was a different matter.

Fiona arched a brow, obviously thinking it over, and Rumpelstiltskin waited. This was the deciding moment where the quill hovers over the dotted line. Then comes that small moment of doubt followed by a seething indignation that swells; and one thinks, '_Why not? I __**deserve**__ this._' and sign their name away. And all of this happens in a matter of seconds that stretch on for an eternity! This was the part that he relished the most; lived for it even. It made his blood pump, his fingers jittery; hungry for the second the quill touches the parchment.

Fiona's brows furrowed again; going through the first stage of doubt. Do it.

Her eyes narrowed; shoulders straightening back... there's that boiling resentment. _Do it. _

Despite himself, Rumpelstiltskin gripped the bars to steady his hands; heartbeat loud in his ears. _Just __**do**__ it! You want this! _Her lips parted, words on the verge of tumbling out and –

"_**Fiona**_!" Fiona jumped at the sound of her name hollered by her idiot husband from the open window of their home." Fergus used his diaper as a pinata! _Again_! How can such a wee thing make _**so**_ much?"

Fiona spared him just one last glace, turned on her heel, and left. Just left.

As soon as the door swung shut, Rumpelstiltskin raged his frustration against the cage. Broke the plate over his knee. Smashed the goblet down onto the grimy floor. Screamed till his dry throat was sore. _So_ damn close! It wasn't fair! He needed this! Wanted this! He just... just _wants _so much... These are the moments where he wishes that the magics worked for him. Where he could have written his own contract to his liking and signed himself away. When he had first agreed to a deal that won him the magic, liquid gold ink years ago... he had been tricked into believing that it would solve all his problems. All he had to do, was con others into signing their own contracts in return. But that's the problem with contracts...

The devil's in the details.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Please review.


	2. Green And Gold

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews! And speaking of reviews, I know it looked like I reviewed for myself, but that was just my retarded sister, bless her. She was writing one and something ridiculous probably happened to where she felt the need to write another and I was signed in on another tab. I just don't want to give the impression that I'm sad enough to review for myself. Or maybe I am if I needed to have my sister review... whatever. Sorry about that. Alright, about the story, I have a *** **down there with a comment you can read at the bottom of the page if you're interested to read my opinion on something. Please enjoy and review! But **not** my sister... she's banned.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own whatever recognizable fairy tales, Shrek, or Dreamworks at all.

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Rumpelstiltskin was bored, and as things go, boredom has a way of toeing the line of insanity every once in a while. Spending all of your time in a cage has a way of doing that. In the first several weeks of his incarceration, he had spent nearly all of his time plotting his escape. At first, his ideas seemed solid enough. All he had to do was weasel some simpleton into helping him. But that had proved too difficult since after his return to this reality, Shrek had made it known to everyone in the realm just what kind of swindler he was. Funny actually... just how does everyone get off in believing him? No one other than _Shrek _had any memory of what happened in his alternate life!***** No harm, no foul, right? Well... it seemed not everyone thought so.

Famous people, eh? Whatever.

Since pleading, deceiving, threatening ( and empty ones at that ) didn't help, Rumpelstiltskin then spent most of his time plotting revenge. Revenge on Shrek. Revenge on the tourists. Revenge on the nameless man who had built his cage... just about anyone and everything actually. It was quite amusing for a while but when he had exhausted every possible idea of villainous acts – things just went _strange_ after that. It felt like he had vomited up every thought in his head and no longer thought of tomorrow, but just what he had in front of him that instant to pass the time.

Having nothing to do for so long with nothing at hand..._ gets_ to you. And as things went, Rumpelstiltskin came up with some pretty strange ideas to pass the time. At one point, he had tried and failed to train a circus of fleas to entertain himself, but they didn't find the cage very hospitable either. For a while he tried astral-projecting but gave it up as a bad job since he kept getting lost. And sometimes when he's just desperate for entertainment, he sings whatever little ditty comes to mind, usually to Shrek's displeasure. But his greatest form of entertainment so far has to be his autobiography which is still in progress... in his head. He was just starting chapter eighty-two, _Aspirations Of Being Taller_, when he heard the door to Shrek's house creak open.

It was either very late or very early; the moon already hanging high in the clear skies and gracing everything in shadow, but he didn't need torchlight to know just who it was that stepped out for a moonlit stroll...

"_Well_ … fancy meeting you here," Rumpelstiltskin said by way of greeting as Fiona picked her way carefully through the semi-darkness; lantern swaying in one hand and a small basket in the other. So she had changed her mind, it seemed. They always do...

"Spare me," came Fiona's blunt reply as she hung the lantern on a low branch and illuminated the area marginally. "The only thing I'd like to hear coming out of your mouth is what you knew about me so-"

"What I knew about _her_ – you mean." They both might _look_ like the same Fiona, but that's as far as it went. For some reason, this seemed to be pretty important to him.

"Same difference," Fiona blustered with an irritated shake of her head. "I just want to know how I could have been..." And here she faltered as she ran a hand through hair with a frown. "How things could have been different if Shrek hadn't saved me. He never told me the details..."

That's the tricky thing with 'what ifs'. It can be amusing if you stop to think about all the ridiculous things that 'if' could be. What if's like... instead of bloody wars, kingdoms and disagreements were settled with a game of musical chairs? A childish struggle over the chair, a small tantrum later, and things would be settled. A simple and entertaining notion to think about. But what _if_... things really _were_ settled at the end of a cheesy musical number? What of the bloodshed that comes after if the winner were a tyrant? Bit much... but then again, thinking about the 'what ifs' in life all comes down to the same thing: _wants_. No one's ever happy with what they're given. Always wondering what the grass is like on the other side. That 'what if' in life or path they took that could have given them that little patch of dirt.

On this side of the fence, Fiona's life looks to be much better... if a homely husband with equally homely children with a smelly swamp is what one would call better. Then again, it's all a matter of perspective. Perhaps the Fiona he knew _wanted_ all that. If she did, she had never told him. _His_ Fiona was just such a mystery to him actually. Shame how it all just ended so abruptly. If he could change things _now,_ he'd –

Damn it all. He's always stuck on his own wants and what ifs as well. No better then the idiots he cons actually. No one ever learns.

"So, do we shake on this?"

"A meal a day for everything I know of her," Rumpelstiltskin held out his hand through the bars and couldn't help but be vaguely reminded of the days long before the magic ink had fallen into his lap. Felt so... _off _to be holding a promise now through a simple shake of a hand. Makes him wonder if he'd still be imprisoned if he had never started writing contracts...

"Agreed." And without another complaint, her hand engulfed his own in a short, but firm handshake.

"You better not have cooked me any of that backwater, ogre swamp food now," Rumpelstiltskin said snidely, his eyes following the drop of Fiona's hand as she wiped off his touch on her nightgown. Funny that... _his_ Fiona had done that as well... at first. "When I said a meal, I meant something I could stomach."

"I'm not like you, Stiltskin," Fiona sighed and stooped to open the basket. "Twisting words isn't something I do for kicks."

Rumpelstiltskin chose to ignore that comment and turned his mind to more important matters; like eating. Fiona passed him a still steaming, golden brown mince meat pie and none of her witty little remarks seemed to register anymore. He could barely restrain his impatience as she searched the basket to hand him a spoon before he dug in; manners forgotten. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he probably looked like a right animal, but it didn't really matter anyway. Things like personal hygiene are no longer a necessity when you're stuck in a cage. The gravy that clung to his now, slightly whiskery face, could only be an improvement.

"'S _real_ good!" He managed out when it became apparent that he indeed needed air or suffer a humiliating death; choked by thick gravy. "Y'know... I was a bit of a cook myself. Maybe it's been _way_ too long, but I think -"

"We're not on a _date_, Rumpel," Fiona said with a roll of her eyes, but he still caught the small smile at tugged at her lips as she passed him a goblet of sweet smelling wine. "I gave you what you wanted, now it's my turn."

Oh, right. The deal. He wolfed down a few more mouthfuls to take the edge off and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before washing his throat down with a swallow of wine. Damn, did that hit the spot. Now where to start?

"The Fiona I knew, liked the color green," he stated and dug around for the biggest chunk of carrot he could find. Strange how you dreadfully miss such simple things like carrots only after it's gone.

"That's _it_?"

Rumpelstiltskin chewed slowly and finally looked up from his meal, trying his hardest not to smirk at the dumbstruck look on her face. It looked as if she had swallowed a fly and was trying by mere thought alone, to tempt it out through her nose. He had to admit, these small moments were the best in his line of business. That confused look they give as they mentally go over the contract to see just where they had overlooked something. But they didn't, of course. Shock sets in as the whispers of their stupidity creep up their veins and it makes everything just... _worth it_. Everyone seems to think that they're so clever, and maybe they are... but not as clever as Rumpelstiltskin.

"Never said it was going to be a long winded biography," Rumpelstiltskin shrugged and snorted into his goblet despite himself.

"You have **got** to be kidding," Fiona grasped the bars and gave a shake that almost upset the wine.

"Old habits die hard?" And he couldn't contain himself any longer; he laughed. Laughed harder than he had in ages. Laughed for the first time since he couldn't remember when and for a second, he wondered if Shrek could hear.

He laughed louder still just to be sure.

"You little -"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm kidding!" He choked out in his snorting fit of laughter; edging as far away as he could from her outstretched hands. "Couldn't help myself, '_You've got to be kidding' _she says. Ha!"

"Very funny."

"Alright, relax! I've got you covered," Rumpelstiltskin took another sip of wine and cleared his throat. "Our story story starts off, like so many often do... Once upon a tim-"

"Yeah, I know that part," Fiona narrowed her eyes and gave him her now familiar frown. "Skip to the good stuff."

"That's no way to tell a story," he replied coolly, swirling the last of wine delicately. "You're going to hear me out, or what?"

Fiona stared him down with a one-sided frown, but said nothing. With another sip of wine, Rumpelstiltskin began.

"Once upon a time..." and here he paused with a wistful sort of look that rewarded him with another roll of her eyes. He ignored her; you just can't tell stories without a bit of dramatics right? "A princess walked in through my doors and spat on my face..."

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It's funny how one remembers the tiny details in life but never the whole grand scheme of things.

Rumpelstiltskin could perfectly recall everything that day; right down to what he was wearing. He was dressed in the smoothest of silks and velvets; forest greens and aquamarine blues that brought out the color of his eyes and made his hair flash like fire in the bright rays of sunshine that drifted through the stained glass windows. It was late afternoon and his servants, or rather – his_ slaves_ – were busy picking up the mess from the party that lasted well into the early hours of the night before. He was lounging on the sofa, head in Baba's lap, while she fed him a late breakfast of fruit.

"You're my favorite, y'know," he winked conspiratorially up at her and she blushed a darker shade of mucky green.

"Oh Rumple, you're too much..." she simpered, and not for the first time, he wondered if she would still bat her eyes at him like that if he still lived in the Crone's Nest...

But it didn't really matter anyway. Trivial things like affection never mattered when you were king. And so, he pushed those old thoughts aside and relished the taste of fresh strawberry his cleverness had earned. That's what you do; relish the good things in life... because usually... good things never last.

"Ah, ah – I want my grapes peeled. Wh-" but before he could say another word about his ridiculous request, the doors to the great hall swung open with a shout.

"Mr. Stiltskin!" Cried one of his witches, some... Darla or... Doris.. or whatever. Most definitely a 'D'. "This woman says she's the princess and demands to see the king."

Rumpelstiltskin shot up in an instant, confused for a moment on just who this madwoman might be.

"Let _go_ of me! Where is my father? Who are all of you? I _said_ – " and here the madwoman threw one of the witches over her shoulder and onto the ground. " – _let go_!"

"Ah, Princess Fiona! How's unemployment suiting the dragon?" He jumped up onto the table to get a better look at her. She didn't look like much of a princess. Her once lovely dress was scorched, torn, and travel worn. Her hair was loose and wild, cascading past her shoulders from wind and rain. "You're a bit early. I wasn't expecting you for at least another year! That won't do..."

"Early... what? I _demand_ to see my father," Fiona insisted as she wrestled with the remaining witch at her elbow. "Where is he?"

"You – let go," he snapped his fingers at the witch who had a look on her face that plainly wished nothing but a thousand painful deaths to Fiona. "_C'mon_, sit down and take a load off! You look like you could use a bite to eat _Princess... _I'll have Baba bring us some wine."

Baba caught his gaze and nodded sharply, scurrying past Fiona who eyed him warily before sinking down onto the sofa. Her eyes took in the extravagant hall and décor in apparent distaste. It was a _bit_ much, but Rumpelstiltskin had the notion that if you've all the money in the land, why not go all out? It's what it's there for anyway.

"Care for some grapes?" Rumpelstiltskin offered a plate before she could start ranting again. "I've got green, purple, yellow ones – those are my favorites."

"Um... the green ones," she plucked the vine from the plate with a delicate hand. "Look, thank you, but I'd like to know what happened since I've been away."

"Any reason why you like the green ones?" He ignored her completely, trying to buy a few moments of time with any and all innate conversation until Baba got back with the wine.

"Green's my favorite color," she gestured at her dress offhandedly but he didn't think that was the whole reason why. He supposed that she probably had to get used to green, what with all the time spent actually _being_ green as well.

"I think mine has to be... gold, I think," he mused airily and popped another grape in his mouth with a grin. "It's the color of my trade you see and everyone always wants at bit of that."

"That's _nice_, but I want to know—"

"Your wine, Mr. Stiltskin," Baba appeared with a glass decanter with two crystal goblets and poured a measured dose for Fiona.

"Thank you Baba, pour me drop too. A bit more – _that's_ it," Rumpelstiltskin raised his glass in a polite toast; Fiona plainly irritated that he kept dancing around the topic she wanted to discuss. "Long live the _King_."

He knocked back his drink with a well-practiced flick of the wrist; eyes locked on the wine that passed Fiona's lips. That was just too easy. Are all princesses so naïve? No wonder they're always running into trouble. There needs to be some sort of support group for such things like that. A twelve step program where you earn a chip for every poisoned apple you turn your nose up to or something. Ah well... this princess will learn soon enough about what sort of world she lives in now. Perhaps she'll even miss the dragon's keep.

"So... Mr. Stiltskin, right?" She ventured, and he nodded, eyes lingering on the last dregs of wine that still clung to her lips. "What happened to my father's kingdom? How could he have let everything... _go_?"

"How should I put this...?" Rumpelstiltskin frowned softly as he poured himself another glass, deep in thought. "Uh... you're father isn't king anymore? No? How about... I vanished them into another plain of existence? Too harsh?"

The sound of the crystal goblet crashing upon the floor as it slipped from her limp fingers, echoing through the vast hall was her only reply before Fiona found her voice. "W-what are you talking about?"

"Oh, only that they traded their entire kingdom to make all their troubles go away... and so I did," Rumpelstiltskin shrugged in a 'sucks to be them' kind of way. "Sad really... They did it all for your … ah... little _green_ secret. It was such a problem you see, so I sent them elsewhere so they wouldn't have to live with the guilt anymore. Can't say I didn't give them what they wanted."

"You – you curly toed freak!" She lunged at him and lifted him clear off his feet by his lapels.

"Watch who you call a freak y-"

"Give me back my parents!" She spat in his face, but before any of the witches could rush to his aid, her hands weakened their hold and he slipped from her grasp as she sunk to her knees. "G-give them to me..."

"You don't get a happily ever after, Fiona," he wiped his face with the cuff of his sleeve in disgust. "No one's saved you this time."

"You … your eyes..." She gasped at last and fell limply onto the rich marble floor.

"My _what_? _Eyes_?" Rumpelstiltskin asked no one in particular and the witches shrugged back.

"What should we do with her?" Baba asked as she toed Fiona's back in apparent boredom.

But what was it about his eyes that captured her? Were they crusty or something? Why did she – oh. His eyes were green of course. Her favorite color...but why would she bother to look? His original plan was to just lock her up in the dungeon safely out of the way. It was the best idea that secured him his place on the throne when Shrek finally shows up. The seasons were passing so quickly and that fateful day when Shrek signed the contract was fast approaching. Letting her go would be a risk he couldn't take since she'd be easily found and the terms of the exit clause could successfully be achieved. But isn't True Love is impossible to flourish within twenty-four hours anyway? The chances of that are slim to none. Maybe he's just being over-cautious...

Perhaps... he should leave it to chance. A deal with himself then.

"Baba! Can you guess the color of my eyes?" Rumpelstiltskin turned away and waited. She looked at him every day. Watched him intently whenever he spoke. Doted on his every whim... surely she would know. If she guessed correctly, down into the dungeon Fiona goes. If not... well... he could always catch her another time.

"W-what?"

"My _eyes_, witch! What color are they?"

"Uh...brown?" Came her quivering reply and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but let out a small sigh.

A stranger who only spoken to him for merely a few minutes; a stranger who now in all possibility hated him with everything fiber of her being, could note the color of his eyes before slipping into dreams. And Baba could not.

"Tie her to a tree at the edge of the forest a little before dusk and let the villagers make what they want of her," he said finally and called Fifi over who swept to his side in an instant with an affectionate honk. That's his old gal; always making him feel better.

"At _dusk_, Mr. Stiltskin?"

"Yes," he sighed again, already growing tired of the subject. "You see Baba, my eyes aren't the only thing that's _green_..."

* * *

"... and that night, where a princess was tied to a tree, instead stood an ogre," Rumpelstiltskin paused to lick the plate clean, suddenly not feeling so well at ease under Fiona's piercing stare. "The villagers found her like I knew they would, and they reacted in they only way they knew how..."

"And then what happened?" Fiona said quietly at last since she was surprising silent throughout his whole tale.

"Well... I guess she eventually found the rest of her own kind. At least in part anyway," he licked the last dregs free of the goblet, and as usual, wished for more. Always more. "She learned to be an ogre; fight like one, eat like one, live like one. It was the only thing she could do since mankind wouldn't accept her. The blow was too much I guess. First the tower, and then her parents, and now she was caught in the middle of two races full of hate for each other. So she picked one. Nights turned into nights and no one was the wiser. It was our own little secret."

"Of course it was your secret too," Fiona gained her voice back. He knew it would happen but that didn't help him prepare for it anyway. "If the people knew I was the princess they-"

"_**She.**_"

"- would have revolted and it would have been the end of you!" She finished over him.

"Maybe... but she _didn't_ and there it is," he held out the plate and goblet though the bars, obviously tonight's tale was over. He only hoped she wouldn't spit in his next meal. If there was going to be one anyway.

She packed away everything again without another word and for some strange reason, the last taste of the wine felt dry in his mouth. Sour and foul. He should have lied. Should have made up some fairyshit story and not have been so honestly harsh with her. Not because he cared; no – never that. He just wasn't so sure he'll have another meal tomorrow.

"Thank you for being honest, Rumpel," Fiona sighed as she blew out the lantern, obscuring her face in darkness once more before she turned to leave.

"How would you know if I was telling the truth anyway?" He called out, curious as to why she'd even trust a word he'd say.

Fiona paused but didn't turn. "Because... I like the color of your eyes too."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, please review! You have no idea just how much that motivates a procrastinator like me.

***: **I thought that it was some bullshit that Rumpelstiltskin got locked up in the end. I mean, just why did he get punished? It was basically Shrek's word against his own. Rumpel even said himself that no one would be the wiser since it was a magical transaction that would only alter Shrek's reality. But whatever. At least he wasn't killed and for that I'm grateful. Then where would I be?


	3. Summer Showers

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! They really do help me write faster. Not minutes after I got the first one to the last chapter, I started writing right away. I'd like to state that in this chapter, there are a couple of quotes from the movie that I take no credit for and used solely for Rumpel's amusement. I also added something just for the fangirls out there to think about whenever it rains. :P As always, enjoy and review!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Shrek or Dreamworks. But I sure as hell wouldn't mind signing one of Rumpel's contracts for it, no matter the cost.

* * *

"_Fiona, the sunlight. You're still... an ogre!_" Said a sock puppet in awe with orange brown stripes worn into the fabric by the rust of the cage. "No duh, you chunky sack of fleas!"

"_**Gasp! **__Loves__ true form?_" Cried another sock puppet stained slightly greenish... with something most would rather not know and Rumpelstiltskin didn't want to be reminded of. "C'mon! Really? A _day_? For a hard ass like you, you're pretty easy to win over! How could you _just_ – ugh!"

Rumpelstiltskin tore the socks off his hands, balled them up with a strangled growl and resisted the temptation to chuck them out of the cage. He'd need his socks after all. If he had sunk so low to have come up with _this_ kind of entertainment, hell only knows what he'd do with his scarf.

Rumpelstiltskin was in a foul mood, naturally, but he knew it had nothing to do with the cage this time. He couldn't even blame the weather, which had been sprinkling on and off all day and making him all kinds of itchy with the humidity. The skies couldn't make up their mind and so he had removed his vest and shirt in the off chance that he'd have himself a shower. Even the prospect of being clean couldn't brighten his mood like it usually did, since the alternative is having Shrek splash bucketfuls of icy river water at him randomly and without warning. No, he knew full well what had put him in a such a mood and the fact that he knew only made it worse.

He had got what he wanted.

Strange how that happens, isn't it? You yearn for something so much and when you finally get it, you either hate it, wondered why it mattered so badly, or it wasn't enough. It's never enough. Rumpelstiltskin knew this; hard not to what with the way he's seen it happen over and over again. He was at the point where he had almost forgotten how things were supposed to taste and that meal last night brought everything back with a near painful clarity and _yet_... and yet it felt as though it had cut his tongue with every swallow. And what for? It wasn't a big deal; it didn't give him his freedom. A part of him couldn't wait for the next meal, but another hoped Fiona wouldn't bother. And for reasons he couldn't quite fathom, that fact alone troubled him since he always knew just what he wanted.

_"Just what do you want?" _Fiona had asked him one sunset in another world; another life away... Strange, but... he didn't know the right answer then either. Perhaps that's the problem with him; he wants everything and nothing at all.

"Why you got polka dots on you, bird man?"

His brooding interrupted, Rumpelstiltskin straightened up and found the source of his disturbance to be one of Shrek's bratty little children. It stood on tiptoes to peer through the bars with a grubby finger pointing at the freckles that dusted his shoulders. The pink bow on the head and summer dress was an obvious indicator of it being female, but he chalked that up as a matter of opinion. Despite his initial annoyance at having his scheduled hour of angst cut short, conversation with anyone right now was a welcome distraction.

"They're freckles," he said as patiently as he could. Polka dots, really? They aren't that big... if anything, he's always been told they were cute. "And I'm _not_ a bird."

"Why live like one?" She asked as she twisted a finger in her bow innocently. Well, she had a point there.

"Well, aren't you just..._cute _," he bit off at the last second and contained his temper.

Rumpelstiltskin never did like children, but no matter how much satisfaction it'd give him to make her run away in tears, this child happened to belong to _Shrek _of all people and that made all the difference. With a sigh, he composed himself and adopted a pleasant tone. Might as well humor the child.

"Oh, it's cheap that's why," he said in his old devil-may-care way. "Living in a cage where I can hold out my hands and touch all the sides makes me feel just... _chipper_. And I love the outdoors; got a nice collection of ticks like you wouldn't believe."

"You look like a little boy."

As a rule, the endearing honesty of children usually border the line of just pain brutality. So what if his race makes him shorter then the average ten year old? Sure, he did have a habit of skipping, but who doesn't like a nice skip when you're gloating? 'Little' indeed. He was... _big_ where it mattered. Some children just talk far too much then they should. Although encouragement, rather than reprimand, may be the key to persuading a child to just shut the hell up, Rumpelstiltskin believed that there eventually comes a time when you have to face the fact they'll never listen, and slap them. But since he couldn't very well reach, he decided that telling her what _she_ really looked like would have to do.

He dropped his pleasant façade in a second and began, "Well, _you_ look like a-"

"Felicia!" Shrek called from the door as he stepped outside; newspaper in hand. "Come inside ya wee sneak before ye catch cold in the rain!"

"Buh-bye, bird man!" Felicia giggled; skipping her way back into the house and somehow, Rumpelstiltskin felt as though he had lost a one-sided argument with that skip. Damn, did he miss skipping.

"Real cute kid you got there, Shrek," Rumpelstiltskin said with a forced smile as the ogre neared for a chat that had over time, become routine between them. "She takes after you."

"Nah, she's got 'er mother's eyes and temper," Shrek said with as sigh as he watched his wife tending to the children through the open window and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but silently agree. He looked elsewhere so he wouldn't be reminded. "So, how's it hangin', Rumpel?"

"Ha, ha, ha..._ funny_," Rumpelstiltskin said with a scowl. "I _never_ get tired of hearing that. Every morning. Of everyday..."

"And I never get tired of sayin' it."

"When am I getting out of here?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, out of sheer routine then actual curiosity.

At first, he had demanded to be let out; screamed and cursed and when he couldn't find the words to express just how much he hated Shrek, he came up with new ones. After awhile when that got him nowhere, he tried bargaining despite the fact that he had nothing to his name and Shrek had all he could ever need. Then came compromise and acceptance. Rumpelstiltskin had argued that maybe with good behavior, he might earn his freedom. But Shrek didn't buy his false smiles, pleasant tone, and promises of doing good deeds in the future. In the end, a rat is still just a rat. And as usual, the reply is always the same:

"When yah good an' ready, Rumpel," Shrek sighed... but _this_ time, it sounded almost like pity and Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't have that. He hasn't hit rock bottom yet to be pitied.

"_C'mon_, let's be reasonable here," he stood up and stretched his aching back; raindrops shaking loose from the cage and catching in his hair as he gave his best smile. "I'm sure we can work things out. So, I tricked a few innocent people, no big deal, right? Made some bad wardrobe choices. Enslaved a few species... I've _learned_ my lesson! I mean, can you really stay mad at a face like _this_?"

Shrek was obviously not amused. "Tha' face is the reason why I don't have constipation in the morning."

Rumpelstiltskin dropped his smile in an instant. Still, he had a point since he did look a bit rough around the edges. Not that if could be helped anyway. Being obscenely adorable has a way of wearing off after living in a cage for so long, as shocking as that sounds.

"You've got to admit, I ended up not hurting anyone anyway! It was all just between me and you. Nothing ever happened, no one ever existed and... and.. " he paused. That also meant Fiona never existed. Was it all just – but a raindrop fell straight into his eye and he blinked out of it; his train of thought broken.

"I know, but the intent was there. Hell, coulda happened withou' ya if I'dve been any thicker when I first met Fiona," He smiled wanly and he didn't sound as bitter as he should have been; certainly not as bitter as Rumpelstiltskin would've been. In fact, he sounded like a strange mixture of amused and world-weary, as though he'd told himself the very same thing for years.

"Then... then why _am_ I here?" He slumped back down with a sigh. Funny how he's never bothered to ask that before now. "It's not like I make a great lawn ornament."

"Believe it or not, but yah did me a favor, Rumpel," Shrek's eyes drifted towards the outhouse and Rumpelstiltskin knew this conversation was drawing to a close. "I'm just paying yah back is all. _Hang_ in there, eh?"

"Ah ha... you're a _riot_."

A favor, right. If Shrek considered imprisonment to be a favor, he didn't want to find out what his idea of freedom would be. Rumpelstiltskin was tempted to at least make a rude gesture at his retreating back, but wasn't bothered to waste the effort. Instead, he squinted up at the gray skies, or at least tried to until those shy little raindrops decided to start coming down full force. Despite everything, he couldn't help but smile; face upturned to the skies. _Finally_, a shower. Great big drops of warm summer rain flattened his unruly hair and streaked down the dirt on his cheeks. The smell of the earth was thick and rich, and never would he have imagined that something so simple as rain would have given him such pleasure.

Once upon a time, he had bathed in glorious tubs filed with scented oils and soaps... and not always _alone_. Now, as strange as it seemed, he couldn't remember why he missed it. The rain came down in sheets and he laughed out loud at the absurd idea. He took advantage of the moment and stood up to soak himself thoroughly; scrubbing the grease and dirt out of his hair. By chance, he happened to glance over towards the window and caught Fiona looking his way. Rumpelstiltskin chewed on the inside of his cheek and he spared a sideways glance towards the outhouse to make sure Shrek was still busy. Ivory tubs or not, he had to admit he missed the company he had in them the most...

"You like what you see?" he grinned wolfishly at her. She probably couldn't hear a thing he said over the downpour, but her frown made it obvious that she understood the meaning behind his smile.

She promptly closed the shutters with a snap.

"_Fine_," he mumbled and nearly slipped on his discarded 'Fiona' sock. "I've got _this_ one anyway!"

Sometimes, he wonders if the cage had driven him to the point of insanity. And sometimes... just sometimes... he thinks it's an improvement.

* * *

"You know... I'm surprised you're keeping up with your end of the deal."

Rumpelstiltskin looked up from his meal and caught Fiona's brow arch in quiet curiosity. He was just as surprised himself since he didn't think she'd show up again. Why would she after the story he gave her last night? No one likes a story where everything's going good for the bad guy. And even if she did decide to continue, he expected that she'd slap him with a crummy bowl of porridge because of the way he so callously admitted his misdeeds. Then again, she wasn't like him. No twisted words. It wasn't a quality they shared since he believed plain sincerity like that can be easily manipulated. You set yourself up as an easy target that way; weak-minded with fanciable ideas, and then just end up playing into the hands of another. Sucks, but that's just how it goes.

"Disappointed?" he smirked over the rim of his goblet and took a small sip, savoring the cream sherry. He used to consider it a peasants drink, but damn did it taste like a slice of heaven now.

"Yes... and no," and the left side of her mouth curled just a bit, but still much too serious to be called a smile. "You _do_ have a reputation for swindling innocent people and going back on your word."

Rumpelstiltskin snorted down at his plate of strawberry cakes and sucked the syrup from his finger. "Innocent? Yeah, right."

"I don't ge-"

"Think about it," he set his spoon down. Since she was in no hurry to push him to his story, he might as well _correct_ her. "People that came to me, usually wanted a little... y'know... somethin' that wasn't really good for them anyway."

"But you made my parents -"

"_**Her **_parents."

"- _her_ parents disappear. They were good people! Why would you do such a thing?" Fiona held no anger in her voice, but there was a tone in there that he couldn't put his finger on and made him catch her eyes again.

Did everyone have the inane idea that he _always_ went out of his way to destroy people's lives? Just one thing. _One_ thing screwed up everything. It's not everyday a king walked into his carriage and yes, he took advantage of it; the ultimate contract. He doesn't go about asking for peoples souls in return or anything. Any supposed 'crime' he might have committed, the client was already doing to himself. Nothing more, nothing less. Rumpelstiltskin knew he wasn't a nice guy by any means, but he could at least take comfort in the sins he hasn't committed since that's all he's really got left to hold onto.

"Didn't they make _you_ disappear?" Rumpelstiltskin said bluntly, fingering the lingering syrup off the edge of his mouth. "And to be so selfish to throw away their kingdom, the lives of thousands, for the sake of _one_ person? Who's really the bad guy there? But hey – I don't judge, no big deal. That's why people came to me."

"_You_ made the terms and they were desperate. The fault doesn't lie with them," she countered flatly, and yes, that much was true. But what else _do _you ask of a king? Gold isn't such a big deal because gold can run out. But a _kingdom_... well... there's power in that.

"Well, _yeah_... but they could have said no? Nothing could have broken that curse on you anyway, so yeah– I took advantage," Rumpelstiltskin admitted and took another bite. "Look, I've dealt with people that wanted people dead, wanted to steal wives, even own kingdoms as well! All I ever did was give them what they wanted and the bigger their greed, the bigger the cost. And if I took advantage, they probably had it coming anyway."

"Unbelievable, there's no way they twisted things up for themselves _all_ the time," Fiona said with a roll of her eyes; still cool and untouchable, up there in her tower like always."It's not fair that the exit clause you write is hardly noticeable at a glance."

"I made the exit clause hidden for a _reason_. Before, I had a guy once who wanted all the gold of a famous sunken ship," He stirred the syrup idly and wondered _why_ he felt the need to tell her anything since it wasn't part of the deal. Regardless, he continued. "If he didn't like how it went down, he could still have however much gold he could carry. Great deal, right?Turns out, I sent him to an underwater cove."

"Very _clever_," Fiona snorted in distaste; running a hand through her hair. His eyes watched the rise and fall of her fingers as they swam through her hair and wished he could remember how it felt. _Why_ did she have to wear it loose tonight? "So the man drowned, but still got what he wanted, as _promised_."

"You don't get it," Rumpelstiltskin chuckled and tore his eyes away from the rain drops that had fallen from the branches overhead and caught in her hair, glistening like small rubies. "He used the exit clause to take what he could carry up to the surface. His greed weighed him down with gold. If he _didn't_ know about the exit clause... maybe he could've lived. "

Fiona smiled her not-quite smile again; as if she knew a secret he wasn't privy to. "So you started hiding the exit clause because you felt guilty."

Rumpelstiltskin chewed his lip with a frown. How does she _do_ that? He could spin words into gold; convince anyone that day was night and night was day, be _she_ - well she was... _something_. And he didn't know what to make of her. So much alike in many aspects to the woman he once knew, and yet so very different. This Fiona, no matter what the subject the argument was about, spoke with an unruffled grace he almost envied. She probes so softly, that one could mistake it for a caress and just spill everything without a second thought. She judges; but gently and with an air of understanding that was beyond him. It was almost admirable... if it wasn't so downright annoying.

What threw him off the most, was that right beneath that... was the Fiona he used to know. There are moments where she surfaces; bold and brash. Blunt as a hammer and still twice as sharp as any blade. That light breeze in her hair and hand at her hip... and so very passionate. She didn't speak with soft words of understanding. She spoke with unwavering cynicism that rivaled his own. They argued over everything; took cheap shots, deserving ones, and sometimes... just to remind each other that there was only hate between them. And in the quiet moments when they forgot about their hate … well... it never lasted long. There wasn't enough time when she had a revolution to run. Never enough time since he had a kingdom to secure... and all for the dread of a _kiss_.

"Yes... and no," he said finally, and that much was true. In the end, he was actually a bit disappointed but learned a great deal about the nature of want and greed... and just how far people would bend to get their happily ever after. "Usually the hidden exit clause just made things interesting."

"Fair enough," Fiona nodded and collected his empty bowl. "So, tell me about your warrior ogress... was she a thorn in your side?"

Rumpelstiltskin hid his grin behind his goblet and watched her slow smile widen; shadows dancing to the flames across her face.

"Oh yeah," he laughed quietly. "She had quite the sense of humor, lemme tell ya..."

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Please review!


	4. Bay of Swines

**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews! Seriously loving them over here and they also give me new ideas to think over and give my writing more depth. I thought about trying to come up with a few ideas on how Rumpel would've dealt with Fairy Godmother and all that, but it was a bit too much legwork for something I wrote on a whim. I'm not much of a writer, so nothing is exactly planned but just... whatever comes out. Maybe in the future when I can just write loads of chapters with no updates in between, I might dive into that with a more political feel to it other than just vague impressions. Hell, I've even wanted to write in my own version Rumpel's back story, but... again, too much legwork where I already have to write in brief stories of AU!Fiona. I hope you enjoy and review and if you'd like to offer suggestions or ideas, don't hesitate to message me!

PS: I know I butchered the Swiss or German (or Swiss-German) accent down there. If you'd like to message me a better way to improve the flow of the speech, I'd appreciate it.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Shrek, Dreamworks, or any other recognizable media or fairy tales.

* * *

The Fiona he used to know, had a troublesome sense of humor alright. Of course at the time, he didn't appreciate it at all. Far from it really. Funny how looking back on it now, he can't help the small smile it brings...

Since that fateful day he had instructed his witches to leave Fiona at the edge of the forest, he had almost forgotten all about her. Not even a whisper of her name was called to his attention for over a month, and so Rumpelstiltskin amused himself with the idea that she was eaten by wolves or the like. Perhaps she had went into hiding; exiled by both of her kind and now lived the life of a hermit in some filthy cave? Maybe... she had found her calling in a traveling circus as their star attraction in the freak show? Either way, he reasoned she must doing pretty good for herself. After all sorts of equally entertaining assumptions (and some rather inappropriate ones), she was forgotten completely; lost in the haze of living the high life. Whatever happened to her wasn't any of his concern and he was almost glad he had let her go rather then have to deal with her whining down in the dungeons. As the days turned into weeks, he grew comfortable with the assumption she wouldn't bother him and create a spectacle of herself in his castle again.

And that's where he was mistaken because... well... Fiona isn't someone who'd let herself be forgotten _that_ easily. Not by a long shot. And so, it seemed that Fiona felt the need to remind him that she was still out there, and hadn't forgotten about _him_ at all.

"Something's... _missing_," Rumpelstiltskin mused as he took in the high vaulted ceilings; sprawled on Fifi's back one lazy afternoon while some movers worked around them since it was the third time this month he had changed his mind and wanted everything redecorated. "What do you think?"

Fifi only honked in reply, of course. But a _dignified_ honk nonetheless.

"That's what I was thinking," he agreed and crossed his arms behind his head, nestling himself deeper in her ivory feathers. Agreed to _what_, he had no idea. That's just how it was between them. He spoiled her in every way imaginable and she in turn spoiled him with attention, no matter what nonsense he was going on about. "A chandelier, maybe? Nah... Maybe a mural of me flying on your back surrounded by angels? Hmm... what about a great, _big_... _**ball**_? A pretty one that'll make the lights all twinkly. Kings get that sorta stuff, right? I'll have to take a look in the next catalog."

"Uh, Mr. Stiltskin? Your new wigs just came in and the delivery guy needs you to sign the order form," interrupted Wolfy in his creepy, flat toned voice and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but shiver inwardly. That guy's just... weird.

Besides the teeth grating monotone, Wolfy's wardrobe just rubs him the wrong way. The varying pastel frocks seem to say with a calm serenity: "As I grow older my husband will desire me less sexually, but still enjoy my pies" and Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but wonder just why he wore those damned things. Maybe it's best if he never found out. If Wolfy didn't do such an impeccable job grooming and organizing his wigs, he'd most definitely have him done away with in some dark alley for being such an eyesore.

"What good are you if I have to do _everything_?" he grumbled as he slid off Fifi's back. Wolfy was halfway to giving a weak shrug in reply before Rumpelstiltskin kicked him in the shin irritably. He had more important things to do with his time. With a loving pat goodbye to Fifi, he grudgingly made his way to the front hallway.

Everything had been going well recently. He had to admit, it was a _bit_ shaky in the beginning what with taking over an entire empire overnight and all. But it was all smoothed over more or less with the magics of the binding contract King Harold had signed. No other King _could_ be crowned because of it or suffer misfortune and the few who tried (one of them, a real cougar of a godmother), served as a fair warning to the rest. Sure, it didn't gloss over everything perfectly with the public or the old militia, but it still held legal standing. And having the long oppressed witches on his side didn't hurt either since a sharp blade suddenly felt like nothing more than a toothpick compared to the intimidating edge of hundreds of swarming witches.

Now, turning the population against a whole race... that was _easier_, as shocking as that sounds. Ogres don't really give off a pitiable air about them anyhow with the way they often run amok and villagers have the tendency to hold long grudges. With the right media to unite everyone against a common enemy (other than himself) and reward versus effort, it was like shooting golden fish in a barrel. Ogres are systematically hunted down by witch and townsfolk alike everyday, picked clean off the very forest floors and all Rumpelstiltskin had to do was sit back and wait for the inevitable return of Shrek to be handed over to him. Shrek will be coming to a world where he's hated, alone, and friendless... just what he wished for. It's those little details that make everything fall into place. It was perfect; ingenious even.

Then again, was there ever any doubt? Perhaps... no one ever does when everything's going according to plan.

"I'll be needing your signature here, your grace," said a stout, red-faced man before a delivery carriage bearing the words _Decadence 2 Go_ in bold lettering.

Rumpelstiltskin scanned the delivery order, careful to make sure everything was as it should be before kicking the knees out of the delivery man and signing the form on his back as a makeshift desk with a flourish. Ever since the last time he had to sign something, he's made it a habit to actually read into every word for double meanings and paradoxes. He was no by no means a poet or skilled writer, but he grew to understand the meaning behind words and the power it holds. Many endless nights were spent pouring over new contracts with ink splattered fingers trying to find the right words that will make the magic work to his advantage because even the slightest thing out of place, could cost him. Not that he regrets any of it... it was just a shame he had to learn the hard way. Funny how that goes; you curse the things that bring you misfortune, but love the experience it brings.

"Wolfy!" Rumpelstiltskin hollered, only to realize the wolf had been at his heels the whole time. "Unload my wigs and take them to...to..." and here he paused; face cringing at a sudden stench that tickled his nostrils. "What _have_ you been rolling in? Know what–? keep it to yourself. Just get my stuff out."

Wolfy obeyed, but no sooner had he lifted the hatch to the door, was he thrown backwards as a dozen or so pigs straight from the filthiest mud pits of hell crashed out of the door. And all hell broke loose.

They squealed; slipping and sliding with the splash of shit, dirt, and half rotted vegetables. Rumpelstiltskin was nearly trampled, only managing to keep himself out of their way by scrambling up onto the delivery guy's back as they stampeded into the hallway. Cries and shouts of movers and witches alike were heard as they ran underfoot, tripping everyone in their way. Vases, chairs, and jeweled ornate goose eggs were knocked off their delicate tables and smashed into pieces. They spread their filth all over the beautifully tiled, newly waxed floors like a plague on humanity.

"W-what – where..." Rumpelstiltskin began weakly, starring after the havoc they caused in disbelief. The witches were trying to round them up, but it was doing more harm then good with the disaster they left in their wake. "_Were those pigs wearing my __**wigs**__?_"

"I'll go get your angry wig..." said Wolfy with a sigh.

"Ye —_no_. I'm way past angry. This... this is personal," Rumpelstiltskin snarled as peered into the delivery carriage and somewhere, Fifi honked in indignation.

"N-_no_, it's an accident! Maybe I've made a mista –" stammered the delivery guy but Rumpelstiltskin slapped him sharply on the back of the head.

"Not _personal_? Then what do you call _that_?" He physically turned the man's head, pointing into the carriage where three words were painted red with a feminine, curly script onto the dirt splattered walls that read:

_With love, Fiona_

She had even dotted the 'i' with a heart and everything.

* * *

"...so there I was, ankle deep in mud and pig shit and the meaning wasn't lost on me either. 'Pig in a wig' y'know."

"Seriously? You're pulling my leg now," Fiona's soft laughter awoke Rumpelstiltskin from his recollections. It was softer in tone then the dry, cold sort of laughter he's heard before and he found that it suited her much better. "I'm not that... it's just not something I think I'd do!"

"Oh yeah? But ya did," He chuckled, leaning against the bars before he caught his mistake. "I mean – _she_ did. Pssh, and it wasn't the last time! That was just the _warm up _of all the little things she did to piss me off. By then, I think she found some ogres and started rallying them to do some sorta movement or something."

"Alright, I see the point in a rally, but _pigs_ to make a mockery out of you? That's not something that would help free ogres."

"Now, I wouldn't say _that_. Picture this – ogres were hunted down by the day and in hiding... maybe they were too scared to try to bring me down?" Rumpelstiltskin gave a shrug; it made enough sense to him. Discrediting an enemy was one of the first things to do in his book. "Making an ass out of me broke that. She earned their respect with her nerve to do what other guys wouldn't dare. The _wigs_ – pssh – that was just for shits and giggles. After that, they stole special shipments to the castle as much as they could. Food, supplies, _anything – _just to tick me off and help their own."

"You sound like you admired her," Fiona smiled that mysterious little smile again and he looked past her to not let it get to him. There she goes again, breaking the rules. What he thought of her wasn't part of the deal and he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a straight answer this time.

"I get bored easy," he smirked and emptied the goblet before slipping it through the bars. "When she started stirring things up, it gave me something to do." It was true _enough_ anyway.

Fiona nodded and didn't press him any further, putting the goblet way. "So...what did you do after that?"

"The only thing I could think of since I had no idea where she was..."

* * *

"Everyone thinks that I don't care, but that's not me," Rumpelstiltskin turned to face the room of witches he had assembled at large. "I care. I'mma caring sorta guy here! Whether I care about the right things or not, reasonable men might differ. _But_ – I care about _us_. Am I right? "

The witches murmured in agreement, all eyes trained on him as casually leaned against Baba's armchair. He loved this part; their blind loyalty. Their unwavering agreement to everything the says. Sure, he knew it was only because he gave them the freedom to do as they pleased, but even loyalty based on lies is still loyalty nonetheless. He could live with the compromise of not having a scrap of real respect and love if it meant he could have all the power and riches he could ever want. Can't have_ everything_ after all. You've got to be realistic about such things.

"But I don't care for being made into joke–" a knock at the door stopped him mid-speech and every head turned towards the doors. "What is it?"

"Mr. Stiltskin?" Interrupted one of the pigs as he edged into the room followed by his brothers.

Rumpelstiltskin gave a heated sigh; anything to do with pigs right now was a touchy subject. "Can't you see I'm busy here? What d'ya want?"

"_You_ be telling him," he whined to the one at his side.

"Unt be fresh bacon? No, I sink you-"

Rumpelstiltskin climbed onto the table with an irritated growl. There's never a break; he's constantly surrounded by useless idiots at all hours. How did Shrek put up with it all? "You're _all_ be fresh bacon if you don't spit it out!"

"Vell ve ah... found de last pig..." began one weakly before elbowing the other to continue.

"But 'ee von't geet oust from undah your bed." He finished lamely and Rumpelstiltskin could've sworn he heard the quickly stifled snort of laughter behind his back. That's just great.

"So you come to me with this? Can't you – gee, I dunno – _talk _him out? You're all pigs!"

"Dey ist speaking _pig-Latin_ unt ve -"

He's heard enough. He picked up the nearest candlestick to chuck at them and they couldn't scramble out of the door fast enough. Rumpelstiltskin took in a calming breath and wondered not for the first time, why he even keeps them in the castle. Wait... oh yeah, he knows. They were Shrek's friends after all and he made sure to go out of his way to collect them. Better to keep them in sight and under his thumb then be out there where they could easily run into Shrek and help him out. It also happened to add a nice sting to it when Shrek looks around and realizes that he's utterly alone in the world. He couldn't wait to see the look on his face.

"Alright... where was I?" He said, all business again.

"You got Rickrolled – I mean – _pig_rolled?" Baba suggested helpfully with a wide smile and muffled laughter spread around the table. Well, isn't that just _witty. _Real cute.

He joined in with a bit of laughter as well and the others laughed harder. It was all cool; jokes are alright between friends... or it would be if they actually _were_ friends. "_You_ just volunteered to help get that pig out of my room later, Baba," he fished off with a slap on the knee and she immediately stopped laughing. "Next time, you might just scrub my back in my next bubble _bath_..."

The witches shuddered as one and he laughed harder still. Oh yeah, jokes are real fun between friends.

He spared a wink at Baba and began again. "So, d'ya think I'm just gonna let what happened today slide? Let those filthy ogres make clowns of us? Right now, Fiona's out there laughing it up and we can't have that. I want her found. I want her face on every poster and hunting parties doubled. I want that stinking swamp drained! I want every tree in freakin' flames that even Jack can't jump over!"

The witches clapped and crackled their agreement and that night, he watched the pillars of smoke and fire billow up and darken the skies in the horizon from his bedroom balcony while Baba chased the last pig out into the hallway. In all honesty, he _did_ have 'burning Shrek's family swamp to the ground' on his to-do list, but it turned out better this way. It was just an added bonus; the icing on the cupcake. Several ogres were caught and imprisoned, and to add insult to injury, he put them to work in the castle's pig farm.

Eliminating the swamp made it harder to hide a small community of ogres and the only place he reasoned they could build camp would be in the Enchanted Forest, so it made hunting them down all the more easier. Reward posters were hung at every tree, at every signpost, at every Inn and so began Fiona's notoriety as the ogre's ringleader at what was jokingly (but whispered) referred to as 'The Bay of Swines'.

Rumpelstiltskin had worried that something like this would happen. Perhaps he had even been hoping, or maybe even laboring under the _delusion_ that the ogres would just stay down, hidden and away. It was a tyrants worst fear after all; having the very people they oppress rise up against them...strange but... a part of him didn't mind. Fiona had moved the first piece. A friendly invitation, if you will. And Rumpelstiltskin couldn't help but grow to love the games they played.

* * *

"Shrek did mention how the posters didn't get my good side," Fiona rubbed her arms at a sudden gust of wind, chilled by the rainwater that had fallen from the tree branches. "But... you mentioned that my curse wasn't widely known. A 'secret' between the two of you, you said. Why didn't I just expose myself as princess?"

Good question. Ultimately, the people who could still remember the rumors about the young princess locked away in the tower, reckoned that Fiona had probably died in there or had disappeared right along with her parents. Or that maybe, she had ran off and left the kingdom to die. He had encouraged such rumors because it suited him. But he often had wondered the very same thing since he couldn't have fought the whole population rising up against him because some long lost heir decided to move in at take her place as queen.

"No idea," Rumpelstiltskin sat himself down and held back a yawn. "Maybe she didn't want to be a princess anymore? This Fiona... she was bitter. Angry. Resented everything about her royalty. Maybe even the part of her that was human..." He nodded since it seemed to make enough sense to him looking back on all of it. "No one saved her from that tower and she stayed a bit longer then _you_ up in there." He felt, rather then heard her sigh and he looked up at her not-quite smile. "Not what you expected?"

"Thing is... I was angry and bitter for a long time too," She said quietly and turned her gaze to the homely, yet comfy looking home. Comfier then his own cage anyway. "I grew up with a fairy tale under my arm. I read nothing but books of Princesses and their Prince Charmings religiously and _hoped_ and... and it was just a shock to finally get out and see that things weren't like I pictured them to be. It felt like waking up from a hundred year long dream and I was so disappointed that my happily ever after wasn't like I believed it to be... " She gave a quiet laugh, as if in remembrance and her smile widened. "At least at first. So... yes. I would expect that she wouldn't want to be apart of her human side in the world you made. It's the side that didn't want her in the first place."

Rumpelstiltskin worried his lip and reminded himself, like he always does whenever his thoughts turned to her, that this confession of hers meant nothing to him. Some people get their happy ending, some don't. End of story. No 'what ifs'. No do-overs. If there's anything he's learned from his stint in the alternate reality, is that there are no re-writes, no matter how hard you try.

"That... _sucks_," he said finally, just so say_ anything_ in the short silence between them. A pity party wasn't part of the deal either so he didn't feel the need to fake being all sensitive with her.

"_One_ last question..." Fiona's smile softened as her eyes caught his again.

"C'mon, I ain't got all night," he mumbled at her hesitance and wrapped his arms around his knees to get comfortable... or as comfortable as possible. "I'm a busy guy here, got lots of things to do tomorrow."

Fiona rolled her eyes with a laugh. "Why didn't you make wanted posters of me in my human form? I mean... she would have had to get out _sometime_ during the day."

"Ooh... I uh – " he paused to buy himself some time while his thoughts swam around and came up dry. "I didn't think of that." It wasn't a downright lie; in the gray area really, but they never agreed on complete honesty in the deal either.

Fiona's brows furrowed together slightly, but she nodded nonetheless with that calm understanding that throws him off. How can someone be so... forgiving _and_ condemning at the same time? Rumpelstiltskin chewed on the inside of his cheek and briefly wondered if Shrek ever felt the same. If he did, he hoped it was often because that infectious, _needless_ guilt she forces on someone was just uncomfortable.

"Okay – I don't _know_ why," he spat out with a roll of his eyes. He wanted her caught, yeah, but then – he didn't. If that made any sense. There were times when she was right where he wanted her, and he had let her get away. Hell, one time, he _did_ manage to capture her. It made their games... fun maybe. "I was bored?"

"You get bored easy, huh?" Fiona smiled wanly and she didn't press him for any details again. "Goodnight Rumpel."

On an impulse, he wanted to tell her to stay just a bit longer and talk about other things – just anything so he wouldn't have to be left alone to his thoughts since they've been eating at him more than usual lately. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. She does enough already with this small, guilty pleasure she allows. It was enough. He could live with that.

"'Night," he said instead. He blinked at the sudden darkness; the glare of the lantern still lingering in his vision after she had snuffed it out. The distant creek of the door disturbed the constant drone of the nightly insects for only a moment before he was engulfed in it again. Funny how he didn't seem to notice it before when they were talking. Their conversations almost make everything a bit easier to bear between the long hours of nothing to do.

He yawned; arms stretching out instinctively before he banged his wrist against the bars with a hiss. Well... _almost_ bearable.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, please review!


	5. Blind Sunrise

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! Not much to say this time... so... I hope you enjoy and review! Thanks!

**Disclaimer**: Not Mine.

* * *

"Pssst! Hey... Rumpel. Wake up."

It's funny how people normally have the inclination to believe that no one has the right to be asleep if they themselves are up. They usually act like it's such a great accomplishment or that it's some sort of competition and deserve a trophy for the effort. There's nothing terribly wrong in that, if anything, more power to them. The self righteous early birds might complain a bit, maybe even throw the word 'lazy' around... and that's just fine. Their complaints actually give Rumpelstiltskin even more pleasure to sleep in and have breakfast while others were having lunch since he wasn't much of a morning person.

"I _know_ you can hear me..." But _no one_ should be allowed to be that cheerful in the mornings.

Rumpelstiltskin inhaled sharply and with tremendous effort, opened one eye. Fiona waved and flashed him a small grin in the semi-darkness. She looked good right at that very moment; flyaway wisps of her loose braid shimmering a copper halo with the weak moonlight... But not good enough. He _was_ sleeping after all. With a faint yawn, he curled his knees up once more, and did a good impression of ignoring her.

"I know it's real late, but I'm here now," Fiona observed; such a clever woman. How did she do it? "You're _pouting_?"

"Isn't it nearly _sunrise_?" He whined, only proving Fiona's point further. Well, he wouldn't _exactly_ call it pouting... but more of a... huh. Yeah, he just can't win with that woman. "I'm going back to sleep."

"A deal's a deal," Fiona's voice circled around him as she most likely set down the basket on the grass. "I brought you breakfast, so I get a story, no matter what hour it is."

Rumpelstiltskin had to bite back a smile at that. She was right, their deal was plainly simple yet painfully vague on the details. If you don't think to include every possible thing, there _aren't_ any rules. He really should have written out all the terms to their agreement because it was starting to look like she was catching on. Since he didn't have a solid argument, not yet anyway, he reluctantly sat up.

"Thought you wouldn't show," Rumpelstiltskin mumbled as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "What was the hold up?"

As soon as he said that, he immediately regretted the question because if the answer had anything to do with bumping uglies with her husband, he seriously didn't want to hear about it. Bad enough he has to see them kiss everyday. Every so often, Shrek waltzes out in the morning with a smile that swallowed up his ears and Rumpelstiltskin hoped he was just easily excitable with a touch on the arm or the like. Shrek _did_ happen to look like the type of guy to get worked up over a game of _Go Fish _so stuff like, "Got any four's?" would probably sound like dirty talk. After going so long without a woman, that happens to a guy.

But he didn't have any room to talk either; a game of _Hangman_ would just about do him in too...

Fiona sparked the wick of the lantern, her face flickering in and out of the darkness before swimming into view with the steady glow of the flames. "Farkle's been so fussy teething, he took forever to go to bed. Then I had to wait for... well you know..."

He didn't know who the hell Farkle was, but it's relief either way. He'll be able to swallow down his meal without the fear of turning his stomach.

"Oh yeah?" He yawned with mild interest. Funny how she doesn't want to talk about how she's sneaking around behind her husbands back. Strange thing is, he wasn't sure if he should feel smug about that or not. Maybe a mixture of both. "We're not doing anything _wrong_, y'know..."

Fiona paused mid-stretch as she hung the lantern on a branch but otherwise didn't seem bothered by his statement. "I know... But Shrek wouldn't like how I'm spoiling a prisoner."

"That's not it," Rumpelstiltskin smirked sleepily. "It's payment, not spoiling. You and I both know he wouldn't want you chatting me up this much." And especially about_ her_...

His unspoken words hung in the air and he knew she could see them plain as day. Rumpelstiltskin didn't kid himself with delusions of bravery, but he wasn't particularly scared of Shrek finding out. What more could he really do to him anyway? He's already suffered through the humiliation of defeat, but it wasn't enough (it's never enough, is it?). He had taken his freedom... his beloved Fifi... what else is left? Not even a scrap of dignity or let alone sanity. Shrek won. Talk about overkill, huh? So, he wasn't a bit scared if Shrek finds out. He doubted those beefy hands of his could even reach through the bars to strangle him anyway.

"He..." Fiona paused, brows furrowing together as she paused to pick over her words. "... he won't like it, no. But we'll work things out and he'll understand. He always does."

"_Sure_... he's a real understanding sorta guy," he snorted as he picked a hole at the knee of his sock. Any mention of that ogre puts him in a foul mood, and as his foul moods go, he felt the need to share it.

"Oh? Are you saying _you_ do?" Now that's a loaded question...

Rumpelstiltskin gave her a snide smile. Shrek barely understood this woman at all. Doesn't deserve to; or perhaps doesn't even attempt to. Bastard had to have everything taken away from him just so he could appreciate what he had in the first place. How long have they been married already? Two years – if maybe that? He couldn't help but wonder what Shrek might do five years from now if he gets bored again with his idyllic life. You can't just pick up and go anytime it starts wearing thin on you. Marriage is just another contract after all.

"I understand you're lookin' around and everything's so bright and shiny, it doesn't feel _real_..." he paused to let that sink in with a grim smile. "It's _so_ bright – that before y'know it, you're blind and ... _complacent_. I'd say hearing about her makes you feel... I dunno... like yo -"

"_Don't_ even go there," Fiona cut him off so quietly, he wondered how he had even heard her. "There's nothing _wrong_ with complacency. I'll admit it," she gave a faint nod with an old familiar, bitter smile. "I'm complacent, but _not_ blind." That's possibly even worse.

He highly doubted her words but remained silent and ran a hand through his hair in indifference. She can go ahead and drown in it then. The other Fiona might have not been happy with her life, but at least her life held passion. He believed that true happiness doesn't last a life time. And how could it? It's not that he's pessimistic, no. Hardly that. It's just... without the hardships in life, how would you ever treasure the small moments where you were truly happy? You can't wish for happiness if you've never known sadness; it's foolish even to try. The most you can do is live it up while you still can, learn to love the stab of jealously in your throat, the blush of longing rise up your skin, recall every vivid detail as you plot revenge. Without envy, temptation, tragedy and blah blah – the _whole shebang_ – the good things in life just wouldn't hold any weight. You would just carry on, listlessly smiling and nodding and going though the motions while in reality, you don't feel a _thing._

It hardly makes any sense why anyone would actually _want_ a happily ever after, doesn't it?The whole thing's just overrated anyway.

Fiona passed him a knife and fork with a sigh and he wondered if there was any real feeling into it or if it was just an automatic response. "I know we'll get caught – _eventually_ – but not tonight."

"_You'll_ 'get caught', you mean. I can't avoid _you_. I'm not doing anything you haven't asked for."

Fiona frowned at his obvious truth but passed him his food nonetheless. "Don't do air quotes, that just annoys people."

Rumpelstiltskin decided to just let the subject drop and glanced down at his plate to find that pancakes were on the menu. Out of curiosity, he tilted the mirror edge of the knife to catch the light and caught a small glimpse of his reflection. It had been far too long since the last time he's taken a look in a mirror and he was pleased to see that not much had changed in his appearance. His hair was a bit shaggier, his skin a bit pink from being beaten down by the summer sun and he could use a shave... but he still looked good.

Once upon a time, he dressed in the finest of clothes, threaded with gold trim and jewels sewed into the very fabric. He owned dozens of elegant wigs that were carefully styled just for any occasion and some just for the hell of it. Servants would dress him and keep his fine hands perfectly manicured and his skin flawless. He remembered the first day he looked in the mirror after such a makeover and hardly recognized himself. Instead of the scruffy carriage trash he had grown used to in the mirror, stood a man that could be admired and envied. Others would look at his wealth and wish to trade even just a few hours of their life with his. He had smiled at the rich man then; perhaps not a happy smile, but it satisfied him nonetheless. He wouldn't have to want for anything anymore.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled at his reflection now... and he found that was alright with what he saw. He didn't have any wigs or fine clothing, his nails were chipped and filthy, but... he had his life. He still had his youth. And he still had one hell of a smile when it was real. Gotta love that money maker.

"Tell me about your second meeting with Fiona," she said as she passed him a goblet of juice. "We only got a few hours till sunrise, so I want to hear everything."

"What makes you think we met again after the first time?" he said carefully as he dug in, his eyes trained on his plate.

They did meet of course, but he never mentioned it before. If he had to be completely honest with himself, Fiona's rebellious exploits were the only things he wanted to share. Everything else was... private. _His_... Quite suddenly, it looked like he'd have no other choice since he agreed to share 'everything' he knew of her. That's what happens when you forget about the details; there's nothing to fall back on to save you when you're drowning in your obligations. He _really_ should have been more specific.

"Well... I know _I_ wouldn't be satisfied with just being a pain," Fiona gave a small shrug of her shoulders, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Sure it helped the resistance, but I'd want to get your attention to come out that witch's nest and face me. Give you a piece of my mind or... try to make sense of you."

"That's kinda flattering," he chuckled down at his plate and took a few moments to work his way through a pancake before it got too soggy with syrup. Fiona frowned at him; obviously not amused with the way he kept stalling, and she looked so much like... like _her_... at that moment, it was almost eerie. Almost like her but... not quite. Her hair was all wrong; tied back and restrained. It was such a small little thing; not anything to get worked up over... but it bothered him. Much more then it should have.

"Alright," he took a sip from his goblet and rubbed his hands together, wondering where to begin. "After the whole pig _thing_, " it still hurt a bit, those were great wigs after all. "We went back and forth like that for awhile. She'd steal shipments, deface statues or posters of me, even tried forming a resistance with nearby villagers, but that wasn't much of a bright idea 'cause my witches caught wind of that fast and no one wanted to risk anything for a bunch of ogres." He took his time with a few more bites and Fiona rolled her eyes for him to go on.

"She'd push, and I'd push back with more raids, more hunting parties, more gold as a reward for every ogre brought in. And as luck would have it, my witches caught someone..."

* * *

Other then the last night he had spent as king, the day he met Fiona for the second time had to have been the longest he's went without sleep...

It had been a long night and he hadn't had a chance to rest at all. He should be trying to sleep right now since there's nothing he was exactly needed for at the moment, but despite being so physically exhausted, he knew he couldn't even if he tried. Thoughts kept racing through his mind; scurrying like ants pouring out of an anthill and nothing could stem the flow. Details of the night kept streaming into his mind and despite his best efforts, he kept going over everything to make sense of the patterns and predict what his opponent will do. Because that's what you do when you want to outsmart an enemy; stay five steps ahead and comb over every single thing. If you don't think of every possible outcome, you just end up sitting around with your thumb up your ass, playing fortunes fool.

And that's exactly what he's doing right now... 'cause how can you predict the unpredictable?

Fiona was about as predictable as a hurricane and sometimes, he was nothing more then a kite caught in the wind; only able to react and never be the one to land the first blow. Weeks would go by and there'd be little to no activity in the resistance, at least as far as his spies knew, and then out of nowhere she'd catch him off guard with a raid or a prison break to free the ogres. Their camp seemed to always be on the move from one week to the next so actually pinning a location to their whereabouts was like playing a game of five-finger fillet blindfolded.

But last night, he had struck gold. By an amusing twist of fate, his witches had found their encampment on the move from one of their random searches. The ogres were traveling under the cover of darkness (not surprising since Fiona herself operated solely at night) and his witches poured down upon them like vengeful harpies. He had been told it was quite an epic battle and that nearly two dozen were captured, quite the blow since the resistance couldn't afford to lose so many. What had really had him going was that out of the many ogres that were enchained... one of them happened to be female. If that wasn't luck, he didn't know what was. He had practically skipped with joy at the prospect of having a good laugh at Fiona behind the bars of her cage, but had skidded to a halt instead when his eyes landed on the only obvious female in the dungeons.

Three thoughts had ran through his mind all at once so quickly, he had to actually give his head a little shake to make sense of what he was seeing. Fiona had either shrunk considerably (and turned all kinds of ugly) since he's last seen her, or Rumpelstiltskin must have grown a bit taller. Since neither seemed likely, it could only mean one thing:

"That's _not_ Fiona," he had said as patiently as he could to Griselda who's self-satisfied smile slid off her face in an instant. "That's an ogre kid. What use do I have with snot-nosed brats?"

Griselda's reply was lost in the shouts and banging that rung through the cages as he stomped his foot down angrily and continued his rant. "Gee – I've got an idea! Why don't we just go find the mother to complete the set, huh? Better yet – let's just start an ogre day care program while we're at it!" Rumpelstiltskin took in a deep breath as took off his wig and combed his fingers through his hair. "Just... just get that kid out of here."

"Y-you're letting this one _go_?" Griselda had said with a look that plainly questioned his sanity; her words sounding oddly loud in the hallway despite the many echoing voices.

He had given her a look that questioned _her_ sanity because right at that moment, questioning his orders was just plain stupidity. "Am I gonna have to send you out on patrol on a _rainy_ day or are you just gonna shut up and do as I say?" Seriously, he _had_ no use for kids. They weren't any good for manual labor and keeping them locked up just takes up space.

"Yes, Mr. Stiltskin," came her swift reply and she hurried to follow his orders.

After the ogre girl was collared and taken out, the real work began. Needless to say, the remaining ogres didn't just hang around all night in relative ease. Nor were they politely interviewed over the whereabouts of Fiona or what the resistance was planning next. Rumpelstiltskin could only withstand so much screaming before developing a headache and left shortly after, letting the witches have their fun. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning did Baba give him the news that none of them were talking and he given the order to give them a rest before putting them to work somewhere. It didn't really matter to him after that point where they go. Hunting ogres was basically a farce to capture Shrek when he appears anyway.

Up in his bedchamber, he felt so restless, he decided to take a walk to wear himself out in the castle's gardens. It perhaps wasn't the best idea after what went down during the night, but it wasn't Fiona's style to strike while the iron's still hot. He doubted she even had the gall to get around in daylight anyway. Since he's hated by most of the populace, he's made it a point to not leave the castle grounds very often and if he did, he's always surrounded by plenty of witches to take care of things just in case anyone got the wild hair up their ass to do something stupid. Since he was just going to be bascially in his own backyard, he didn't bother with an escort. He wanted to relax, not be constantly reminded of the worthless idiots that surround him at all times. And so, he left without a word, hoping no one would find him for a while.

He must have been so deep in thought, wandering around the empty gardens, that it was a surprise to find the creeping warmth of the sunrise as it exhaled over the horizon. Brilliant golds, oranges and pinks slowly raked through the skies, ebbing away the darkness and he could safely say that he couldn't recall ever seeing the sunrise before. He seriously had to get some sleep if he wanted to get anything done at all today. With a luxurious yawn, he sat up from the marble bench he was laying on and stret-

"Good morning, Stiltskin," said a cool voice behind him and he very nearly fell off the bench in surprise. Regaining his composure quickly and on the verge of spitting some insult or the like, he turned and found no one other than the very focus of his thoughts all night; hand on the pummel of her sword.

Rumpelstiltskin gulped down a momentary prang of panic and tried his best to look nonchalant as he slowly stood up and looked around for an escape route. "Huh...This isn't where I parked my goose..." he squinted against the rising sun.

"Good. We can walk then," Fiona said pleasantly enough as her hand snaked out, catching the back of his collar before he could get away... not that he seriously could get very far; dinky legs and all.

This was the exact moment where he was convinced that nothing good ever came from being up early.


	6. The Thing About Unknowns

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! I don't feel completely done with this chapter, but I thought I'd post it anyway since the last update was ages go. Got sidetracked by a stack load of new video games I had to break in. In this chapter, we finally get more AU!Fiona action with Rumpel (slap yourself, not_ that_ kind of action, this is still rated T ). Now, I took some creative license with Fiona's outfit and changed a few things. I wondered to myself just what Fiona might wear during the day being that the average woman doesn't walk around town in armor. There's kinda no point trying to remain incognito if she's armed to the teeth, ready for battle. So instead of having her wear the iron shoulder pads, (that make me relive horrible nightmares of the 80's) I figured she'd tone it down a bit. And 'cause... y'know... there's something incredibly hot about knee high leather boots with a short plaid skirt._*cough*_ I hope you enjoy and review!

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

In his line of business, Rumpelstiltskin believed there were two kinds of people: sheep, and wolves.

Sheep, as the name implies, are the easiest to take advantage of. They didn't necessarily have to be weak people, in fact, even a man in the highest position of power could fit the description. They like to be spoken to with soft words of flattery and encouragement and take comfort in simple pleasures. With the false nudge of sympathy and trust, they'll happily sign a contract, no matter how wary they were at first. Shrek was the perfect example of a sheep; not too bright and with a love for simplicity. You talk too fast and sheep get spooked, so listening to them bleat is the best tactic. All Rumpelstiltskin had to do was suffer through his horrible jokes, soften him up with drinks and food, and it was smooth sailing after that.

Wolves are trickier. Their intelligence is usually higher then the average sheep and are quick to snarl if it looks like you're trying to play them for a fool. They're not there to listen to your sales pitch and even have the nerve to believe they're doing _you_ a favor. The best way to win them over is by leading them to believe that they're getting the best deal since instant gratification usually outweighs any small cost. It's a verbal tug of war with them; nothing but cut and dry straight facts with far too much bargaining for his tastes. They're challenging, but don't have the appeal of creative license that Rumpelstiltskin preferred. He's only glad there aren't too many of them.

But every once in a great while, Rumpelstiltskin comes across a type of person that isn't classified so easily. Neither sheep nor wolf. Not even mixture of the both, but something completely different. A category all of its own. An '_unknown_'... and with every passing second in Fiona's company, he was starting to get the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was dealing with a very dangerous unknown...

Fiona slowed her steps to match his, seemingly at ease with taking a relaxing stroll through her enemy's garden... but her hand was never far from the pummel of her sword. It whispered it's caution anytime his eyes would drift, trying to seek a way out of his predicament. Neither of them spoke for what felt like an eternity, but every so often her eyes would catch his, flashing in some secret amusement over his own obvious discomfort. He only frowned in reply and decided to stay silent for the moment. It's all very well and good to be the smartest thinker, but it won't get you very far if you're not listening. Especially if someone has a sword. And a very big one at that.

The sword wasn't the only thing that caught his eye about Fiona. She had changed drastically since he's last seen her; an almost wild air about her that put the Princess she once was to shame in his opinion. Instead of the velvet green dress and slippers, she wore rough leather boots buckled up to the knee that let the eyes linger on the frayed edges of a green plaid skirt. An ankle length, forest green cloak hid her sword from view but with every step of her stride, a mean dagger strapped to her thigh glinted it's cheerful warn -

* * *

"You were checking her out!"

Fiona's voice barely broke the surface of his narrative and he blinked as if he were waking from a dream. "What?" he said dumbly; more confused then anything and not quite sure if heard her in the first place.

"You were _so_ checking her out," Fiona brought a hand up to muffle her laughter. "You _were_, weren't you?"

Rumpelstiltskin chewed his lip; inwardly grateful that the sun hadn't yet risen since he could feel a sudden heat creep up his neck he knew turned his ears an obvious shade of pink. How the hell was he supposed to answer _that_? He felt the obligation of deal tug at him and one way or another, he knew he had to answer. He quickly leafed through the mental thesaurus that's always come in handy for such situations and found a good enough reply so it could be taken whichever way she pleases without exactly lying.

"I was _scrutinizing _the _dagger_..." at her thigh; the tattered edge of that skirt just brushing the buckle against her pale skin. It was a nice blade alright. "C'mon, I'm like... y'know..." and here he gestured at the top of his head offhandedly, wondering just where he was going with this. "I'm hip height at most people, so don't flatter yourself." Weak excuse, yeah, but it was more or less true. When your view is nothing but asses and bellybuttons all day, it's hard _not_ to look anywhere else.

"Okay," Fiona nodded, although he wasn't altogether sure if she said that in agreement or not. "Go ahead. You were at the part where you were _scrutinizing_ her dagger..."

"So," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "There she was; cloak billowing in all her badassery, but I wasn't very worried about her running me through. Just like you said, Fiona came down to try and figure me out..."

* * *

"Are you happy with what you've done to my father's kingdom?"

Rumpelstiltskin followed her gaze over the parapets towards the once prosperous city of Far Far Away. Once upon a time, in another world, the main road that led towards his castle was lined with gorgeous homes of lesser nobles and royalty . Exotic palm trees disappeared high into the skies and dignified, well bred horses pulled stretch-carriages at a pleasurable trot. It was a rich city of trade and tourism. A city where the very streets were said to be paved with gold and a Farbuck's Coffee Shoppe at every corner. A city where your dreams came true; your happily ever after...

In short: it was a city for those who could afford it.

It was a city where only the rich got richer and the poor barely scraped by. People were born to their station and no one ever had a better life for themselves if they weren't born into money or if their fairy tale wasn't written with a flattering quill. Rumpelstiltskin personally believed that you should only rise as high as your merits and cunning will take you, but not everyone agreed with that reasonable outlook. No matter how hard he tried, he learned that a man in that once beautiful city, is born in his place and expected to _stay_ there.

And so, he did what any king would do to even the playing field and not _all _of it was his own doing. He squeezed the nobles for more gold just for the hell of it. He didn't actually _need_ more riches; he did have the key to the treasury of the whole kingdom after all. Since their own greed wouldn't be outdone, the nobles squeezed their tenants. And in turn, the tenants squeezed the peasants down to the last coin. It was like an intricate domino effect and Rumpelstiltskin was the only one left standing. Now, even the haughtiest of nobles couldn't afford to powder their faces and lived no better then their lowliest of stable boys. Those who's hands weren't used to making a living for themselves were solely dependent on him and come to make deals or beg to work in the castle on their own. Business had boomed and Cinderella's one of his best maids, head of the castle's staff and everything.

In short: everyone's equal.

"Yeah," he said evenly and left it at that. Fiona glanced down at him, but her face was a calm mask, only the slight tightening of her jaw was any indicator of emotion."I'm sure you're not here to chat about old times. What do you want?"

Fiona turned away from the view, her back against the sun warmed stones and held his gaze. For a long moment, she didn't say anything as her eyes searched his face. Only when his patience started to wear thin did she glance away. "Last night, you did something I never would've expected of you," she said with a not-quite smile. "You let that ogre girl go free. You are _so_... so confusing. I thought it meant that there was some... _good_ in you somewhere. I guess it's a lost cause, isn't it?"

Ah, the sting of disenchantment. Sucks, doesn't it? It's funny how the very lies everyone frowns upon, actually are what people want to hear. But the thing is, the truth is harsh. People who can manufacture romance or bottle up happily ever afters are like an oases in the desert; everyone flocks to them. It's one of the many reasons why he got into magical transactions in the first place since there's a lot to be earned in tapping into the fantasies of the masses.

"You're putting points into your delusion skill aren't you? I bet you are."

"No, I stopped doing that a long time ago," she sighed and fixed her eyes up at the castle. "Still... at least it wasn't a complete waste of time. Might as well take a look at my old room while I'm here."

Say _what_?

"Whoa, if you think I'm just gonna let you dance right into _my_ castle, you are seriou– "

Fiona slid a few inches of her sword out of its scabbard with a harsh hiss. It didn't so much as whisper it's caution anymore but promised a dire threat. "I'm not _asking_, Rumpel. You did something nice last night – whether you _meant_ to or not – so I'm playing pretty nice for the moment. Let's just pretend we're getting along right now or I might remember how much I hate you."

Usually, a normal person at that moment would at least have the decency to act ashamed of themselves, but since Rumpelstiltskin was anything but shameless, he only shrugged and fell into step next to her. "Call me sensitive, but I can't help but take that personally. It's not like I dumped an entire pig farm in _your_ lap first."

"You hunt down and enslave my kind, remember?" Fiona said past her shoulder at him conversationally as she made her way to the fountain that dominated the center of the garden. Her voice held no anger or contempt; almost as if enslaving a whole race for no reason was something everyone did on the weekends. She was calm and collected; cold as ice. Rumpelstiltskin had to bite back his smile. This definitely wasn't the soft, emotional mess of a princess he once knew.

Rumpelstiltskin decided that was a good thing. He could hate her a little less now.

Before he could think of a reply to that, Fiona went down on one knee at the base of the fountain and clawed away at the twisted vines that crept up the side. It wasn't much of a fountain being that no water ever ran from it ever since he's been there. He'd been meaning to get an architect to take a look at it and see what the problem was, but had forgotten over one thing or another. She scraped away the roots that grew out of the weathered stones and ran her fingers over them, almost as if she were counting them. With some help from her dagger, she dug into the cracks and slid a stone back from view. A halting, grating sound of stone against stone rumbled up form beneath his feet and with some surprise, he watched the fountain's centerpiece sink from view.*****

"Huh," he said as if admiring more closet space. Not every eloquent, sure, but what's there to really say when you see a fountain sink into a descending staircase in your backyard? At least he knew why the fountain never worked now.

"You go first," Fiona nodded towards the opening as she cleaned her dagger off on her cloak.

He had half a mind to argue, but the sunlight caught the edge of that blade again and he had to submit to her demands for the moment until he comes up with something. That's what you do with unknowns. You wait and see how it'll play out and watch for an opening. A chink in their armor; your own subtle blade. Everyone wants something after all. He's made it a point to avoid unknowns in the past but there was something about this one that intrigued him and he had no idea why. Maybe it was because she was an opposing force in everything that he stood for and his equal all at once. Maybe he had just grown bored of their games so far and wanted the higher stakes that came with playing with your enemy in person. Hell – maybe it was just that damn skirt.

Whatever it was, he felt the need to classify her.

* * *

"Did she ever tell you what that passage was for?"

Rumpelstiltskin downed the last of his drink as he searched through the recollections of that day. "No, she didn't say." He paused for a moment and considered not asking, it wasn't any of his business after all, but he knew he'll just end up thinking about it all day. "So... you're gonna to leave me guessing or what?"

"It was for me," Fiona said simply with a faint smile. "I used to hate the winter nights when I was a little girl. The days were shorter and the sun sets earlier. My father never let me out of my room after sunset and so I'd be stuck in there for hours before bedtime. My mother had that passageway built so I could play in the gardens in the evenings... I used to pretend I was sneaking out of an evil witch's lair to go meet my prince charming out by the willow trees."

"Well... that was sad and disappointing," he said before he could stop himself. Seriously though, maybe he should have saved himself that little mystery since he could have thought up a dozen way more interesting things by noon. It would've given him something to do anyway.

"You are such a _jerk_!" She said after a moments pause at his rudeness, but she laughed regardless. He only shrugged in reply with a laugh. Yeah, he could be a jerk. No denying that, but he felt it was better than feeling sorry since there seriously _wasn't_ anything pitiable about her.

He looked down at his hands and couldn't help but wonder what Fiona could have been thinking when she led down into the passageway that day. Was she already numb at that point to remember the cool, evening breeze of childhood make-believes? Was she smiling softly when he wasn't looking like this Fiona does now? She never shared with him her bittersweet childhood or how she passed her years locked away in the tower after. He didn't really care to know so he never asked. Talking about themselves just wasn't something they did to pass the time.

"I think she wanted to get under my skin by showing me how easy it was for her to get into the castle," he continued and fixed his eyes towards the lightening skies; there wasn't much time left. "And it worked too... whenever I'd see a red-head around, I'd do a double-take after that. So... I was led by sword point down this hole in the ground and the first thing she tells me was the first thing that ran through my mind..."

* * *

"You can cave in this passageway if you want," came Fiona's voice from somewhere above him before stepping lightly down after him. "I know other ways into the castle."

Well there goes that idea, he sighed inwardly.

The rumbling of stone intensified again as the passage closed over them and cloaked them in darkness. Metal screeched it's protest somewhere to his left and after a moment, sparks flared out of the darkness and a small flame flickered into life in a rusted lantern. An exhausting looking staircase loomed in the shadows ahead and Rumpelstiltskin vaguely wondered just what the deal was with princesses and staircases. It's like their whole lives were measured with each step. 'The princess was locked away in the tallest tower' or 'in the deepest of dungeons' or something like that. Isn't there ever a first floor?

After following Fiona's steps for a few paces, his mind kicked back into gear and wondered just why Fiona hadn't just sneaked in one night and suffocated him with a pillow or the like. Didn't she _want_ to take back her kingdom? Perhaps, she just didn't want to be queen... The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Ever since she escaped the dragons keep, she hasn't done anything to claim her royalty. Nothing but the resistance. A rebellion for equality... not that it'd come about to anything really. The influence of the contract wouldn't allow a revolt to shake it's magical binding since he made sure of that when he first wrote the thing. Nothing short of death will remove him from the throne. And of course... Shrek. But that's another contract after all.

"I'll save myself the trouble since we both know you don't want to kill me," he tested and caught Fiona's quick glance as they climbed the staircase.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"You could have already."

"True," Fiona said smoothly as her footsteps echoed throughout the rough stone walls; like it wasn't out of the ordinary to converse about the subject of murder after all. "But... I could just be waiting for the right moment. Still haven't set a date."

"Oh yeah, and then what? Be queen by day and hide in another tower by night?" he smirked. They both knew the public would never accept an ogre or let alone a cursed queen to rule them. "Face it, without me around, you'd have nothing to do."

They had reached the top of the staircase and Fiona gave him one of her almost smiles before blowing the light out and covering them in darkness once more. "I could say the same about you..."

The rumble of stone cut him off before he could shoot back a comeback and light blossomed from a widening gap as the wall slid away. It was just as well though. He seriously had no reply to that because in a way... she was right. Without her around to muck up his day in one way or another, he'd grow bored in no time. She was the only person who didn't simper with false flattery at him, begged him for deals or jumped when he barked. Not a wolf... but definitely not a sheep. Not all ogre either... Unknown.

He hoped to never classify her.

* * *

***: **Since I'm so obsessive, I watched the whole series over again several days ago and in _Shrek: The Third_, it shows that Fiona has some knowledge of the castle's secret passages. At first, I thought nothing of it till I watched _Forever After_ again and wondered why AU!Fiona never took advantage of that to break in. But, who knows? Maybe she did break in a few times and slunk around the place. So... yeah. That's kinda what made this chapter. Thanks for reading!


	7. Contradictions Taste Good

**A/N:** So I'm back with another chapter! This took much longer than it should have, and I do feel a bit bad about it. Got caught writing at work during the slow hours so... that kinda hurt my time. I work at a gas station, the late night shift. Alone. Dunno what the big deal was. No one wants anything between 3-5 in the morning but smokes and condoms so I'm not really needed for customer service. So... I hope y'all enjoy and review! Oh, and about the title of the chapter... yeah just couldn't get that commerical out of my head one day. :P

**Disclaimer:** Dreamworks and whatever. Just know, I'm not making any money.

* * *

"You turned my old room... into a nest for your mutant goose?"

Rumpelstiltskin snorted with laughter at this. In truth, he had no idea that Fifi's room used to be Fiona's. In every room of the castle, he made sure that Fifi had a seat just as luxurious as his own and decided that perhaps she'd like her own room as well. They're hardly ever apart so in the end, she's only used the room once so far, probably in an effort to please him. One quick glance around informed him that Fifi was elsewhere in the castle, possibly getting her beak polished or something.

Fiona's fingers traced the intricate gold patterns etched into the ivory pillars that surrounded Fifi's silken nest with a touch of amusement on her lips. Her eyes glanced up at the paintings of himself and Fifi that decorated the room and Rumpelstiltskin took the opportunity to step carefully out her line of sight towards the door. It wouldn't take but a few seconds to get a mob of witches up here and have the tables turned on Fiona. While some may see this as the proverbial rat deserting a sinking ship, he preferred to think of it as quietly pulling your head out of the bear trap you've landed yourself in, placing it neatly behind the bear it's intended for, and tripping them in it like nature demands. He's a coward, no denying that, but he's not stupid enough share idle chitchat with someone that's openly entertained the notion of killing him.

"Never would've figured you to be such a cat lady..."

Rumpelstiltskin had barely grasped the handle of the door behind his back before he froze; all thoughts of a strategic retreat forgotten. "Say what now?"

"You heard me," Fiona drawled, still turned away from him as she inspected the pink drapes, running the silk through her fingers. "The creepy types that obsess over their pets like they're children." She gave a little tilt of her head and her eyes raked over him critically. "Looking at it now, it makes sense since you never got that baby you wanted..."

He let go of the door handle as a mean smile crept up his face. So she thinks that by cracking open a book with pretty pictures, she knows everything about him? Who the hell was she to talk about things she was ignorant of? Despite all that, he welcomed it in a way. It was refreshing to actually have someone call him out on something after having everyone kiss his ass for so long. He wasn't quite sure when the novelty wore off, but one morning he woke up and instead of that amusement he usually feels (however brief) at someone sucking up, he suddenly felt kinda bored with how spineless everyone was around someone who swings their feet on a bar stool and skips around in glee. If he can't find _himself_ to be that intimidating, why respect someone that does?

"Gotta say, I'd rather get screwed out of a deal then get stood up by my '_True Love_'," he replied smoothly despite his rising annoyance. Eat that, bitch. If Fiona was insulted, she didn't give any sign that she was. Her pace was relaxed, almost as if she were browsing a book section, haughty and slightly bored. Rumpelstiltskin wasn't so sure if he admired that about her or not.

"Who says _you_ ever had one?" she asked airily as if inquiring about his health and still not paying him the slightest attention as she poked and prodded the decorative eggs on the mantelpiece.

Damn it.

"Not altogether sure what you brought me up here for," he said as he sat down on Fifi's nest, deciding to change tactics and just speak plainly. There's nothing to be gained if they just stand around here, swapping insults. They'll eventually run out and have to start on 'Yo Momma's' and _no one_ ever really wants to go there. "Is there... is there something you _want_?"

"Not particularly..." Fiona stepped away from the mantelpiece and frowned at a bare stretch of wall, lips pursed as if she had recently sucked on a lemon. "Didn't I have a poster hung here?"

This woman insulted him, threatened his life, practically abducted him in his own backyard – and the only thing she thinks to talk about is a silly poster on her wall? "Yeah – Stonehenge, I think."

"That's right," Fiona lips turned up just barely. "What did you do with all my stuff?"

"Threw it out with your miserable childhood," he smiled back nastily, finally able to have some kind of insult that would give him the upper hand in the conversation. Chances are, he could end up with that forgotten bear trap poised and ready between his legs, but it didn't matter now. He wanted to see some sort of _reaction_ out of her – just anything to know that he was getting under her skin just as much as she was.

"Good," she said with what sounded like sincere relief. No gratitude, but no hesitance either.

_Damn it._

Fiona turned away and finally looked at him with a wry smile on her face and he itched to know what she was planning. He wanted to spread her thin like parchment, lick the nib of his quill and scratch away at her till all her thoughts rose to the surface behind that smile. But he knew he never could. There was no way possible. Just in this small conversation, Rumpelstiltskin had come to realize that she was an intriguing contradiction; her very essence was. Two races, two lives – a third if he counted the simple housewife she could have been in another world away. Here stood a woman that was just as crude as she was graceful; beautiful and yet malformed by her ferocity. The very flame of passion yet a cool breath of ice with her indifference. Classy and rough around the edges. Exactly what his example of a perfect woman should be.

She should thank him, he decided. There just wasn't anything all that attractive or remotely interesting about her before he came around and ruined her life.

"You know... " Fiona began as she plopped down on the silken cushion, at ease despite the fact she was sitting next to her enemy. " … I think... I'm getting tired of all of this."

"_This_...?"

"Hiding," she said quietly as her brows furrowed together with a slight frown.

At first, he had no idea what she was getting at until it dawned on him after a few moments: none of the other ogres knew about her curse. Now at last, his suspicions were confirmed. He pondered for a moment on how living a double life would be, only to come to the conclusion that he's doing more or less the same thing. In truth... they shared a lot of things in common, in one life or another. In this life Fiona never got her happily ever after, and in his old life, neither did he. She once was rich with everything she could ever want or need just like him, and now she most likely lives the life of a peasant like he once did.

Strange... how they contradicted and complimented each other yet never on the same side.

"You're the only one I can be real with... ironic isn't it? Sometimes... the need for reality is just as nagging as the need for fantasy," she continued with a sigh.

Funny how that goes, doesn't it? That the very contradictions that annoy you to no end, are the very ones you just can't do without. As soon as it's gone, it itches like a phantom leg. Of course you know it's not there, glad for it even because you'll no longer have to feel it drag against the floor and fight against you with every step... but soon, you'll come to realize that without it... there's nothing to keep you going anymore. The fight was only thing that makes you feel human. It was at this very moment where he decided that things just came too easily now that he made his perfect little world to cater to his very whim and he missed the challenge of that struggle; that certainty of need. But it wasn't so simple in her case. What made it all the more surreal, is that she had no idea of a better life. Did she ever wake up and feel that something wasn't right? That things aren't the way they should be?

"I wouldn't call it ironic," he said finally as he felt the silk drag beneath him as she stood up, obvious that their little discussion about nothing at all was coming to an end. Shame that... he was starting to like just taking about nothing. Maybe he was getting a bit tired of it all himself. "Reality's a contradiction."

Fiona gave a humorless laugh, more of a sigh then anything as she paused in front of the still open passageway. "I guess we are." So she understood how confusing all of it was, and so very needless and necessary it was as well... He could admire that, he decided. "You live today, Rumpel. I don't know about Tuesday, we'll just have to find out."

And she left. Simply left and closed the passageway behind her. For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin sat there in silence and considered giving her a head start before calling his witches, but he changed his mind. He could wait for Tuesday after all.

* * *

"So you two met again... right?"Fiona said softly after a few moments.

"Lotsa times," he confirmed, squinting into the rising sun as it peeked over the horizon. "We didn't plan for it... least not always. She had a knack for tracking me down wherever I was and show up. Sometimes it was for just a few minutes to insult me or gloat about her latest stunt to make me look a fool... sometimes we'd skip past that and just talk about whatever over drinks to change it up for a few hours."

"Friends and enemies."

"Contradictions," he nodded with a stunted yawn. Oftentimes he wondered if maybe she was his only friend.

"And in all that time... you never told her about me?" For a second it sounded almost like an accusation until he looked up and saw that her eyes held only sincere curiosity.

"_One_ time – I did," Rumpelstiltskin admitted with some reluctance.

"_Well?_"

"Well... I ...well... I was drunk," he began and tried hard to ignore Fiona's widening grin and raised brow. The details were hazy and fuzzy around the edges and that night was particularly humiliating, but she wasn't making it any easier. "See... that was actually the first time I saw her at night. Went out once to hit The Poisoned Apple – old times yeah? So I was just y'know, having a good time and throwing them back. _Threw back too many_... whatever. On my way back, I stopped the carriage 'cause I had to piss. Stumbled through the woods for a bit and guess who was there, waiting to ambush me?"

"She caught you with your pants down!" Fiona giggled without any restraint and despite his slight embarrassment, he didn't mind it. She looked good right then; her eyes bright with laughter, the sun gracing her hair. He only wished he could have made his own Fiona laugh like this more often.

"It was... uh... it was a _bit_ awkward," he agreed as he recalled with some trouble the bark of a tree beneath his hand, Fiona's tap on his shoulder, the shout of surprise and the resulting cursing as piss got all over his shoes. "Can't remember what all she said or what I said only that she called off the whole thing 'cause I made her laugh. Anyway, the subject came up – no idea _how_ – only that I told her about this world. How she had the two point five kids and a picket fence with a dog or whatever. I think I said it to piss her off or somethin'. Not sure."

"What did she say to that?"

"That I had too much to drink and how they should put 'you should be this tall to enter' signs at bars," Rumpelstiltskin shrugged and was rewarded with another peal of laughter. "Nah... she didn't believe me. I was drunk offa my ass. Couldn't even walk straight. She had to carry me back over her shoulder and dumped me on the floor in front of the carriage while my guard of witches were off trying to find me. I was pretty ticked the morning after."

They shared a moment of comfortable silence as they watched the skies brighten and the last of the purpling clouds streak off and fade into soft golds and pinks before Fiona slowly put away all the evidence of his early breakfast. Sometime during the night, her hair had come undone and flowed just as wild as he remembered over her shoulders. It used to fall with such a beautiful grace, casting her face in shadow when she bent to press her lips at his temple whenever she was in a more amorous mood... He hoped she never let her hair down with Shrek; he couldn't possibly appreciate the simple beauty of it anyway.

"You've got a... a _look_ on your face," Fiona said suddenly and he blinked back into focus. "What are you thinking about?"

Rumpelstiltskin worried his lip with a frown and not for the first time, considered just answering truthfully to her probing questions about himself. It's not like it'd change anything; he'll still be locked in this cage and she'll still be living out the days of her ever after. "Thinking about how I like it when you put your hair down for me."

"Oh, I do it for _you_?" Fiona ran her hands through her hair with a sly smile and with a few well practiced flicks of hair, it was tied back again. Back to being 'Shrek's wife'. "Whatever happened to... how did you say it... 'there wasn't anything attractive or interesting about me before you ruined my life'?"

"I was _wrong_," Rumpelstiltskin admitted casually. "Geez, you can't take a compliment either?" Fiona only bit back her smile with a shrug. "Alright... now get outta here so I can catch a few winks." She had to leave before he forgets she has a husband. Before he forgets he never was meant to be in her life in the first place. "See you tonight?"

"_Maybe_. Goodnight Rumple... or uh ... good morning? You know what I mean."

He waved her off and watched as she made her way back to the door before leaning back against the bars, suddenly more cheerful then he was a few hours ago and not as sleepy as he thought. You just can't sleep when the sun's screaming right in your face. Can't rest when you've got cold steel digging in your spine. The only thing you can do is dream when you have a woman on your mind and that's never a good thing in Rumpelstiltskin's case.

Good morning? _Right..._ what a fucking contradiction.

* * *

**A/N:** The update for this next chapter will be a little longer than usual as well. I'm about halfway through the other story I'm working on (it's called _Exit Clause_ so check it out if haven't already) so I'll update that first before I'll get started with the next chapter. Thanks for reading!


	8. Name This Chapter

**A/N:** Hey I'm back with another chapter. Just a heads up – this'll have about maybe two chapters left till I'm done. After several PM's begging for my own version of Rumpelstiltskin's fairy tale (and much bitching to hurry the hell up) I've decided to write it in as well before the end since it doesn't have enough meat on it to make it a separate one-shot. Anyway, this chapter, and the one after, is written in Fiona's point of view. Not much more I've got to say so... Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Dreamworks and you're insane for ever thinking I do.

* * *

"D'ye hear tha'?"

With an effort, Fiona broke out of the meditative trance dish washing always made her slip into. She's always hated the monotonous dip of the plate, the hypnotic swirl of the bubbles and the resulting wrinkles on her hands. How Cinderella found comfort in such things was beyond her. Fiona listened closely and found nothing out of the ordinary. Farkle and Felicia were playing with their toys and Fargus still hasn't left her knee, content enough to play with his blocks at her side. Everything was quiet for the most part. Not the kind of silence that warrants any worry, but... the usual. Normal and familiar.

"What am I listening for?" she asked her husband as she handed him a plate to dry over the drip of the water pump.

"Singing," said Shrek with a look of such disgust on his face she would've thought it humorous if he hadn't said it so seriously. "He's sung tha' same song thirty-four times inna row. Finally stopped."

"Mmm? I hadn't noticed..." Fiona bit back a laugh and straightened her face into what she hoped was a neutral expression. Of course she's noticed, hard not to with a voice like that. She just didn't mind it. You learn to tune out small annoyances like that when you've had Donkey as a friend for so long after all.

"_Thirty-four times_, Fiona."

But Shrek never really learned to tune out such things for Donkey, so why would anyone else be an exception?

"It's a _real_ good song," Fiona said innocently as she could and even hummed a bit of what she knew. She really shouldn't bait him since it'll get him going, but the whole thing seemed so funny, it was hard not to.

"Tha's a bit of an understatement," Shrek glanced her way with a smile playing around his lips. "I'd say the weirdo's finally gone 'round the bend."

Fiona's smile faded as she felt an old annoyance and uneasiness creep up her spine. Not so long ago, she could've said the same about herself. The constant suffocation of imprisonment. The slow, and very conscious drip as you lose your mind with every passing minute. She knew it all too well. You never forget such things. Whenever her eyes catch a passing glimpse of the cage outside the window, she couldn't help but be reminded of it.

Fiona's first few years locked away in that tower were hazy in her memory; exploring the ruined castle while Dragon slept and getting accustomed to being alone. At first, she was excited about the idea of living in an actual fairy tale like her parents had assured her. Naturally, such things always appear a romantic adventure to a child full of wonder and easily awed by magic... but as the years passed, the magic grew stale as the constant loneliness wore on her. Maybe she went 'round the bend herself after the innocence of youth died and the impact of solitude hit her full force. Her thoughts just slipped away and went for a walk; didn't ask for directions and stayed lost. If singing the same song thirty-four times in a row is considered a sure sign of losing your mind, Fiona lost hers a million times over long ago. Caged birds don't sing. They scream. Sane ears just can't hear it for what it really is.

"That reminds me... when do you plan on letting him go?" Fiona asked casually, as was her habit every few days ever since Rumpelstiltskin became their unwilling garden gnome.

When Shrek came back the day after the children's birthday with a little man in an iron cage and told her what had occurred the day before, she understood the need to make Rumpelstiltskin pay for what almost happened. Granted, she didn't appreciate how their whole lives could have been undone over something so petty and it hurt to find out, but at least the whole adventure showed him how much he stands to lose and his love for her and the children only intensified after that. It's hard, no matter how rewarding, being a parent and husband can be. The daily grind, the need for release. It was a big change from the privacy and solitude his bachelor life gave him. Still is sometimes... and she doesn't blame him. She understands more then ever now.

For a long time, she thought they had been cultivating the perfect relationship. Past mistakes hidden from each other, tucked away; happy and safe. Complacent. But to be fully lounged within that comfort zone carried severe implications. To please someone perfectly, you must understand them perfectly. And doing so, he couldn't defy her expectations without failing. They failed to understand each other in so many ways. Only now does she finally feel how it could have restricted his life's expectations, stuck within the domestic routine and out of his element. He needed to feel alive; a reminder that he wasn't just a husband and father. Needed to be an ogre again. He needed, sometimes, to be immune to her touch. And so, she didn't argue when Shrek decided to keep a prisoner on their lawn; it brought him satisfaction. It made him feel like himself.

But as soon as Fiona started to see the first signs of Rumpelstiltskin's initial (and oftentimes humorous) outrage fading away and slipping into an almost catatonic acceptance; like a healthy man resigned to living in a hospice, did things strike a chord of disgust in her about the lengths Shrek went to keep a living trophy of his accomplishments, too stubborn to let things go. Disgust at herself for watching the very same things she went through like a silent spectator; letting it all happen. If Shrek felt the need to keep a guilty reminder of how close he was to losing his family, keeping someone in a cage for so long wasn't the way to go about it.

"I dunno, Fiona... Were yeh ever planing on tellin' me what you two been talking about when you slip out at night to give him treats?"

A dish slipped from her hands and clattered back into the sink as her heart gave a sudden jump into her throat. "_Eventually_," she admitted a bit more calmly then she felt. Fiona never planned on keeping it a secret or lying to her husband forever, but it still didn't ready her for the argument that was sure to follow now that he's called her out on it. "It's not doing any harm, so I didn't think to tell you right away... at least not until you'd let him go. How did you find out?"

"Not very sneaky leavin' a shopping list of stuff we don't really eat where I can find it." Well... she's never had any practice at being sneaky. That's got to count or something. "If it's not doin' any harm why keep it a secret, eh Princess?" Shrek's voice took a biting edge, and she bristled at the mocking nickname but he had a point. She shouldn't have kept it secret. After everything he's been through – _they've_ been through together– she should have told him sooner to lessen the blow of finding out himself. "Wus'e been tellin' you?"

"What I was like," she said without any hesitation. There seriously _wasn't_ anything wrong about their conversations so there wasn't any reason why she should sensor herself to his interrogation. "The things I did in the resistance when he was king. How I highjacked delivery trucks meant for him... How he met me at sword point once..." _And how Rumpelstiltskin so readily admitted they met many times after..._

There wasn't any reason to sensor herself... but she felt the need to do so anyway.

Those stories... they belonged to _her_. A small and fragile piece of herself that made her feel invincible; strong and defiant. It's everything she wished she could have been had Shrek never saved her from her imprisonment. When Rumpelstiltskin describes the way she spoke with fearless wit and cynicism, she couldn't help but secretly steal away a bit of his words inside and make believe – if only for a moment – that it was herself he was speaking of. His words helped remind her that she was something to be admired. Not a wife and mother. Not just an ogress or a damsel in distress. Just like Shrek needed to feel like a real ogre, she needed to feel like something other than herself.

"Oh, _did_ he now?" Shrek let out a humorless chuckle but she coolly nodded in agreement and passed him another plate to dry as if they weren't having an argument at all and just a small disagreement. They haven't had a shouting match in a long while, and she wasn't about to break the record now. "And did yeh ever get the wild hair that he might be _lying_?"

She did, naturally, and she accepted the idea the three nights ago when she first decided to speak to him. He gains nothing lying to her, no... but he doesn't gain anything by telling the truth either and a hot meal isn't much of a motivator. A part of her still wonders why he didn't just as easily ask for his freedom in return but whatever his reasons, she was glad for it. Knowing what she feels whenever she closes her eyes and listens to his words, she wasn't so sure she would have turned down his offer. Fiona was skeptical at first since he was well known for being a cheat, but while he only twisted words to his own liking, he always kept them and that made all the difference. Their deal was so vague on the details, it would be nearly impossible to for him to bend them to whatever suits his fancy. It wasn't even big enough to include an exit clause. And so, she couldn't help but believe him. If anything, talking about his failures so candidly was an obvious sign of how sincere his was. So, in a small way... she trusted him.

"I thought of that, yes," Fiona continued and stepped carefully out of Fargus's way since he thought that now would be a good time to sit on her toes and use her dress as a tent to build a fort of blocks around. "And it doesn't really matter. It gives him something to think up during the day if he's lying... and if he's not … it feels good to know that I didn't just stay in that tower forever without you."

"Don't gui – "

"Shrek – _please_. You always forget about it, but I still remember. It's something I try hard everyday to get over and you and the kids are they only things that made everything_ worth_ it." Fiona finally pulled the plug with a bit more venom then she would have normally done and like always out of the corner of her eye, she could plainly see the cage in the distance. She needed to get control of this and come back to the subject at hand. "One year is long enough -"

"He took _everything_ from me. Everythin'! My family, my friends, years of _your_ life! It wasn't a walk in the park having t'see what happened to you without me. One year isn't enough. He stays for every year you had to wait fo'me. It's only fair -"

"I'm not defending him or making excuses," Fiona turned to face him finally. They've been over this before, but she wasn't just going to drop it this time. Not anymore. "But it's not _fair_, having the kids grow up around that. It's not fair to _me_ having to watch what hurt me so much, happen to someone else. Sometimes when he talks... it's like he's not even _there_ and – and I see _myself_ !"

She could feel the tension rising in the space between him, but he fell silent and she was grateful. He was trying to understand, but he just didn't know how to. Couldn't see past his resentment. Shrek never asked how she lived her life in that tower, and so she's never told him. It made everything easier on the both of them that way; to just assume she was cozy up there, waiting for her prince charming. It's so very comforting to think that dark chapter of her life never happened before he stumbled into it. Perhaps she should have told him a long time go. She didn't know why it mattered right _now_ at this moment – washing the dishes – but she felt the need to tell him. Let him know that bad singing and telling tales was the last thing on the list of annoyances right now.

"I used to sing constantly when I was locked in that tower," Fiona said finally and watched the last of the soapy water circle the drain. "The echoes made me feel like I wasn't alone. I used to – "

"Fiona -"

" – have tea parties with the singed bones of my would be rescuers," Fiona talked over him. He_ needed_ to hear this. "I even gave a few of them names," a bark of laughter she couldn't contain broke through and she had to run a hand through her hair to compose herself. "_Sir William_ wanted to be an artist, but _Sir Jayden_, always crushed his dreams and held him back -"

"I get it _a'right_," Shrek cut her off with a pained look on his face and she fell silent. She didn't blame him for not wanting to hear the details. Insanity's funny when you're not thinking about it, sure. But there's nothing funny when you picture a teenage girl with no one to talk to and desperate enough to make idle chitchat with a grinning skull. "Cripes, Fiona... Still doesn't make it right for what yeh did, goin' behind mah back like tha'."

"Maybe I should have told you … and maybe it's _not_ right to encourage his stories …" or encourage _herself _"... but it felt good to know that I wouldn't have cracked if you hadn't come for me," she admitted. "I always thought I would."

Shrek gave a deep sigh. "Yeh always make me out to look like a bad guy, y'know tha'?"

"I know you'll think about letting him go because you're _not_ a bad guy," Fiona smiled softly and grasped his hand in hers to let him know she wasn't angry. She's not sorry and he knows this, but apologizing for something you'd gladly do again doesn't count.

"A'right – I'll … I'm going out for a bit. And I'll _think_ about it. " She knows the routine by now. He'll fuss and throw around a few words before walking off to blow some steam, but he'll understand. He loves her. "Y'know that means we'll have t'get a new babysitter righ'?"

Oh, how will they ever fill the position of deranged-prisoner babysitter _now_? Good help is _so_ hard to come by nowadays...

"Shrek – just go and be back in time for dinner."

As soon Shrek said his goodbys to the children and the door swung shut, Fiona found herself internally counting slowly to one-hundred. It wasn't until she reached sixty did she realize, she was readying herself to tell Rumpelstiltskin the news. No matter how selfish it might sound, in a way … she almost regrets bringing up the subject of his freedom. It felt as if she were burying a new friend she's barely gotten to know. No more stories of that far off world of what ifs. No more verbal sparring with the tyrant king she's secretly grown to like the taste of. Maybe it was best he didn't know about it. He's been locked up for so long, what difference would one more day make? If he knew that there was even the slightest chance that he would be set free... he might not feel so inclined to talk about anything with her...

But there's always the chance he wouldn't care.

After several minutes, one glance out the window informed her that Shrek had disappeared from view down the road, probably on his way to visit Donkey for a change, and that Rumpelstiltskin was currently hanging upside down from his cage. The look on his face was hard to discern in the distance, but he had a certain stillness about him that was almost troubling... Fiona sighed, annoyed that she'd even go so far as to entertain the thought of visiting right now since it wouldn't be a good idea after what transpired. Shrek might find out and it could result in a worse argument later, possibly even change his mind entirely about giving Rumpelstiltskin his freedom...

And she did want his freedom. Of course she did.

* * *

"Farkle! Stay where I can see you!" Fiona called, distracting Farkle momentarily from his mud fight with Fargus and getting an impressive spatter of it on the back of his head.

"I loved playing in dirt as a kid," Rumpelstiltskin said, face ruddy from hanging upside down. "Used to do nothin' but dig holes all day."

"I can't picture you as a child," Fiona bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. "I bet you were so little, you'd need three staircases just to reach the toilet."

"_Ha ha_... real cute. Didja make that one up all by yourself?"

"Aren't you proud?"

"_Little_ bit – yeah."

Fiona would like to think that she merely wanted to exhaust the kids before dinner with a good mud fight. It was a nice day after all. The sun was high in the sky, a soft breeze flowing playfully in her hair... no point staying cooped up on a day like this. She also liked to think that there's nothing wrong in hanging the wash to dry a little bit closer then she normally did to Rumpelstiltskin's cage since the sunlight pooled perfectly in that exact spot, ensuring Felicia's blanket will dry much faster to end her fussing. None of these coincidences had anything to do with the fact that the very subject of her thoughts was hanging no more then ten feet away, watching as she hung up her blankets.

"If you're here for the usual – " Rumpelstiltskin sighed before dropping down onto the bottom of the cage with a rattle of iron. " – you've used it up for the day. Gotta wait until tomorrow. Deals a deal, yeah?"

She'd liked to believe any of those things... but it wasn't true and he guessed as much. No matter how much she tries, she just can't keep secrets from herself. His enticing words of another world, of another woman, affected her in a way she's never felt before. Sure, Shrek's told her what he could about that once warrior ogress... but not the side of her that Rumpelstiltskin knew. Once having tasted that small sliver of independence, however briefly, it's hard to look at things the same way again. She's found herself many times these past few days with whatever small decision, wondering what she would've done if she were _her. _She knew it was silly; that there's hardly any difference between one Fiona to another except the circumstances to which they were molded from... but she couldn't help the flutter of excitement and flattery that ran through her veins whenever Rumpelstiltskin spoke of her. Maybe it was selfish of her to want these things, but there wasn't any harm in it. At least... not as far as she knew.

"How about..." Fiona dug around for a subject, slightly disappointed that she had forgotten about the terms of their deal, but resolute to make something out of it anyway. It's just like him to tease her with something he knows she wants. After a few moments, her thoughts settled on a subject she's recently had on her mind on restlessly these past few days. "Let's talk about _you_."

"For...?"

"For nothing. Just to talk," she replied and paused with the barest of smiles before stooping again for more laundry to hang, determined to show him not everything has a cost.

"And ruin my mystique for _free_?" Rumpelstiltskin smiled back toothily through the bars. "Not gonna happen. You'd make a crappy salesman, Fiona. You're trying to make me buy something, but not doing a good job at making me _want_ the product."

"So, what _would_ you want?"

"Ever wonder how nature allowed those demon things your friend calls 'babies'?" Rumpelstiltskin said after a moments pause, eyes on the distant forms of her children playing. It was an obvious change of subject, and not the kind she wanted, but she had to silently agree. She's often wondered the very same thing herself. How _did_ Donkey and Dragon have babies? – mechanics aside.

"What went where, how often, and if it was painful... It's_ gotta_ be illegal somewhere. Those things are just plain... _freaky_."

"You sound like you've put a lot of thought into it," she laughed despite the strange path their conversation was going.

He spread his arms as wide as they could, as if he meant to lay the blame of his train of thoughts on the very cage itself. "I ain't got anything better to do."

"Then I'm sure you've thought of what you'll do when you get out of here," she prodded, determined to get back to the subject at hand. "Where will you go from here?"

The quilt blurred out of focus as she trained her eyes past it to have a glimpse of his expression. She supposed no one ever thinks about the person behind the villein; the quill that writes their character. Perhaps no one ever does because it makes them look human. It's far easier to believe they don't enjoy the things that any regular person would. That they didn't laugh at something other than someone's misfortune or didn't have their own good hearted ambitions. He definitely looked human right now; his smile not as clever us it normally was, eyes not a sharp. As if he wasn't so sure about it himself and didn't know what to feel about it. A part of her wished she hadn't persisted in her line of questioning, but the other half was too curious to let the subject of uncomfortable offspring change her mind.

"I've thought of that...yeah," he shrugged after a few moments. "Take a look to see if my carriage is still around. Might've been picked clean by now. Start over. Settle down and get back into my old trade..."

"Shrek got rid of the ink."

"I got a stash _somewhere_..." A sly smile surfaces briefly and she's hardly surprised. Someone clever enough to change the entire course of history and bend reality in such a way, must have some sort of contingency plan. "But nah... won't go back to that full time. Goldsmithing was my trade. Good at it too. Even had a king as my exclusive costumer. Made gold into anything – fine jewelry, minted coins, designed a throne –"

"So, you're saying there's truth to the whole 'spinning straw into gold' thing?" Fiona bit the inside of her lip to conceal her excitement. She's always loved the magical thrill that fairy tales give her. Maybe it was because of the fact she never quite liked her own. It was her only vice when she was growing up, lacking the world she longed to be a part of, she could only glimpse it briefly through the musty books she treasured while she was locked away.

"Something like that, yeah." He said with a slow smile that stretched up the side of his face, strangely attractive and all the more so because he _knew_ it was. She blocked her view with a pillowcase just to have a reason not to look at him.

"_Well_?"

"What will you give me if I tell you the _whole_ story? The _real_ version."

A lot of things came to mind. Many of them, things she shouldn't be thinking and a few she thought of anyway, if things had been different. If the circumstances would have allowed... if she were _her_. Once again, her mind circled that drain, coming back to the same thing. She wasn't her, he says... but why did she insist she was? What was _she_, other then some bitter and tired shell of what she once was? Back in that tower. Before anything had a chance to happen, or never could. All of these things were a blur of in her mind as she watched her children play without seeing, blissfully quiet and yielding. If she could just close her eyes, only for a moment, she could block everything out and... and...

"Well?"

Fiona opened her eyes, suddenly annoyed and unsure of why that was. "Isn't the sound of your own voice payment enough?"

For a moment, Fiona wasn't quite sure if those very words came out of her mouth. Her manner usually wasn't so biting, no matter who she was speaking to. Perhaps it was Rumpelstiltskin that brought it out of her. That half dream she often feels whenever he's near, softly whispering _her_ words in her ear. She hoped to never fully wake.

"Sure, but you've always liked the sound of it too," He winked. "Alright, how 'bout an even trade? I'll tell you what I haven't told _anyone_, and you'll answer a question of _my_ choosing."

Fiona hung the last of the sheets while she thought this over, silently fuming at his stubbornness. It couldn't even be called an '_even_' trade. She knows what she's getting, whereas she can't imagine what he'll ask of her. But what did she really expect – that he'd spew forth his story to someone he's got every reason to hate? She might have not been the one to lock him up in that cage, no... but she didn't do anything about it either. She imagined that these past few days of asking him to relive his failures might have been all the more crueler rather then just leaving things alone to smolder... But where would she be now if none of it had ever happened? If she hadn't been in such a foul mood that day while bringing him his meager lunch. Would she have been happier? Living in complacency? Never knowing anything else?

It didn't take long after that to make up her mind. "Deal," she said, and she can finally understand the satisfaction he might have at saying those very same words.

It felt good, even if she didn't know what was coming.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading (if you still are after the long ass wait)!


	9. The End

A/N: This is the last chapter. Sorry, I was mistaken. Not much more **to** write after this, y'know? I'm not exactly sure if I'm happy with it. Spent forever just sitting here, trying to avoid posting it just in case I had something else in mind to write. Seems too... abrupt. Then again, I just can't imagine Rumpel getting all worked up with a mushy goodbye. I'm a sucker for happy endings so maybe that's what I don't like about it, but I never had the intention for one either. Whatever. So... enjoy and review!

Disclaimer: I don't get why I even bother with these.

* * *

There's something truly magical about fairy tales. Not the magic _itself_ like... pricking a finger on a spindle and sleeping for a hundred years... no ... but how they can stay with you forever; a never ending story in your heart. No matter how many times we hear the same tale, it feels like the very first time. That soft blush or roll of the eyes at that very first kiss of True Love, brows furrowed as we work out along with the hero an impossible riddle... And at last, that same, satisfied smile that grows as the tale comes to the end and the evil doer gets his comeuppance. While many aspects of the same story change through the years, ultimately, everything stays the same. Familiar roles like the dashing prince and beautiful princess. The wicked witch or cunning trickster. They never change. The end is always the same.

Like the saying goes: There's a dozen ways to skin a cat, but you can only kill it once

"Alright. Just a warning – you _might_ not believe me," Rumpelstiltskin said seriously and Fiona rolled her eyes for him to continue. "You prolly know a bit already. The miller's daughter and the King, right?"

She nodded. It can't be _that _different. "Go on."

"Then everything _else_ you know, isn't exactly how it went down. See, even _I'm_ not sure how the rumor reached the King's ears, but I was pretty comfortable as his goldsmith and when I heard he had some nobody locked away in the dungeons and giving _me_ competition, I had to know what her secret was. So, I stole the key to her cell and made a copy to see for myself. Come to find out, she was sobbing in a pile of straw with no idea how to do the impossible."

Fiona, despite her best efforts to remain skeptical, had to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was different, but made sense so far. How else _would_ he just magically appear in a dungeon? It was obvious he had no magic of his own. If he did, he wouldn't have been locked up for so long. "Okay... from what I know, it was a misunderstanding and the King threatened her life if she didn't do it."

"Half right," he raised a brow before dropping his voice to whisper conspiratorially. "It was a _scam_. The King was recently widowed without an heir. The miller had just went bankrupt and started the rumor to get the Kings attention to marry his daughter and not worry about a dowry till _after_ they were wed. Living in court and part of the royal family would have solved all their problems. They just thought the King would be a gentleman about it." He shrugged, as if he couldn't blame him. "The King was a bit cleverer then that and wouldn't marry unless she could prove it. Beheading a lying commoner is nothing, beheading a _Queen_... that's where your reputation's at stake."

"Death threats, huh? What a way to charm a lady."

"Ha! Yeah. So anyways," he continued. "I was young, she was sniveling ... and she was beautiful ..." he trailed off and a bite of that estranged annoyance ran through her veins. Her called her beautiful once as well. "So, I _helped_ her. Guess I thought the faster she was Queen, the better chance I'd have at keeping my job and stay in the King's good graces. It was just a one time deal, y'know?" She knew it didn't turn out that way, but didn't interrupt. "She gave me her bracelet to melt down into gold while she threw the straw out the barred windows into the moat below. I ran it so thin, it could thread delicate fabrics without tearing. Made seven spools of solid gold."

"Didn't the King complain about how little there was compared to straw?"

"Naturally, but she _did_ prove she could do it so he couldn't complain since she kept her end of the deal," he nodded. "She made an excuse to him about something to do with her '_magic_' it and well, you know how it went. Bigger cell. More straw. I heard about it and came back. She gave me her necklace and I managed to make thirteen spools. The third night, she had nothing left to offer me."

"And then what?" Fiona asked anyway even though she knew what was coming since it wasn't her favorite part of the tale.

"And then... I did it for_ free_. Used my own gold to make a bakers dozen."

There was a moments silence where she wasn't quite sure she heard him right. "What?"

Rumpelstiltskin gave a little shake of the head, eyes on the swaying sheets past her shoulder. "That was my first screw up. Anyway, y'know the rest - she married the King, forgot about the initial death threats, and had a happy marriage. But that's just how the story goes..." he paused for a moment, as if he wasn't so sure he wanted to continue now that he shared so much. "What _really_ happened was... it wasn't a happily ever after and it wasn't the last time we met in that dungeon. Not a year later, she had a son with hair as red as _mine_."

Something uncoiled in the pit of her stomach at what she was hearing. That's definitely not the story she remembers. "What you're saying is... the baby was _yours_? As in yours – _yours_?"

"Yup," he nodded, as if everything he's told her wasn't so hard to believe. "Really, Fiona – _think_ about it. Just why the hell would I ask for a baby in a bargain? Didja think I'd eat it or somethin'?"

"No, but maybe if you raised the King's heir as your own -"

"What for?"

Fiona had no answer to that. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The whole story was so riddled with holes to begin with and everything he's told her filled them in smoothly. Even as a child she always questioned how Rumpelstiltskin even met the miller's daughter; his own competitive jealously would have fit perfectly. He had the knowledge to know where she was and a means to get to her in the castle that way. Without any magic of his own, it's perfectly plausible the golden spools were made my hand. It was so very easy to believe that he was just plain evil whenever she wondered why he'd want a baby of all things.

"Alright," Fiona said after a few moments, admitting defeat for now. "So, when you found out – you asked for your baby like the story goes."

"My second mistake," another shrug. "Shoulda just let it be. See, you _can_ behead a Queen for adultery. She wasn't going to give me my son because it'd give her away. Made up some cock and bull story to the King to cover her ass."

"What about your name – the guessing game?"

"_My_ name?" He gave a humorless laugh that didn't quite suit him. "Right. Maybe she wanted to mock me or... or maybe she wanted to give me a chance ... dunno. Well, I had to guess my _son's_ name. If I got it right – I'd keep him, if not – I'd be exiled from court."

"What was his name?" Her voice was barely a whisper over the sound of her children's laughter. It was obvious that he didn't guess correctly, but she had to know.

"She named my son after _me_," he said with a bark of laughter, so very similar to the one gave Shrek before this whole conversation. "I never woulda guessed it!"

He said it so simply, she couldn't believe how he hadn't gone mad at the cruel joke. And... perhaps _he did_. Maybe that was the straw that broke him and compelled him to find a magical way to make his contracts binding and always have them turn out in his favor. It certainly made no sense for the old exit clause to be his name like the rumors went. It just didn't fit with the way all the others after seemed so dry and clever, as if mocking the unfortunate client in his own twisted sense of humor. But if everything he's told her was true... that means his whole reputation was a lie and he was the one who was tricked the whole time. That he wasn't the bad guy from the beginning...

"You're lying to me," Fiona said finally. He _had_ to be. "If – if you're not the bad guy in the story, why would you just _accept_ the role for so long?"

"Oh, am I?" His voice took on a harsher tone, unfamiliar and cold, chilling her to the bone. He smiled, not a cruel one, but one he slips into every so often when he re-visits his world with her. It was cool and unflattering; like a card player silently warning you to fold and egging you on regardless. "_Roles? _You set too much score in fairy tales. Everyone was a bad guy in the story – even me. We all had our share of lies and underhanded moves. She had to screw me over to keep her head and I don't blame her. I left and didn't say a word. Who would believe _me_ over royalty anyway?"

Once again, Fiona had no answer to that. It was so silly to think that not so long ago, she used to think her own fairy tale was so horrible when it didn't turn out like the way she always wanted. She can't imagine what it must have been like... losing his whole life, his reputation, and a child all in one tale. It's hardly a good enough excuse to take advantage of others... no ... but things could have been different if he had never helped that woman.

"But what about your son?"

"What about him? I left. The end."

She felt an anger rise and quicken her blood once more. Fiona couldn't imagine a parent ever leaving their child for anything, no matter the cost. Fargus's shy and quiet smiles, Farkle's wild antics, Felicia's strong and inquisitive nature... they meant the world to her. They were her constant happily ever after at the end of the day whenever they wrap their little arms around her neck or grace her ears with their bubbling laughter. She'd do anything to make sure she's never apart from them. By the sound of it, it seemed like he wasn't all that sad about it. Maybe his son was better off without him. A father that would so easily give that all up, wouldn't be much of a father at all.

"I think it's pretty low even for _you_ to just leave without even trying."

"What good is a headless father to a bastard son?" Rumpelstiltskin replied shortly. "Banishment was a mercy the King wasn't famous for."

Fiona sighed, accepting the answer for what it was. When he puts it like that, he did what he had to do to survive, even if it was in his worst interest. She supposed he'd grown accustomed to it, probably even acknowledged his past mistakes since he _had_ to know what he was getting into when he decided to have an affair with a Queen. She wondered if he ever spent long hours thinking of that red haired boy and what's become of him. If his son had that same dimpled smile with some unknown mischief he'll never see reflecting back at him. All that – lost to him. Unwritten. Just for the greed of gold.

"So, how did you find the magic ink?" Fiona asked, deciding to clear the air with something – just _anything_ else. She was still undecided after hearing his side of the story. He could be lying, twisting things to his liking, no matter how much it seemed to fit. Perhaps that's the thing about fairy tales ... no one ever wants to hear the whole story. It loses its magic that way.

"With lots of backstabbing, twists, turns and too many promises I _still_ don't intend to keep but... that's another story for another time," he smirked and Fiona expected as much. He always seems to know just what to say to leave someone wanting; forever the salesman. "But while we're on the subject... you know I still have some left."

Fiona felt a small kick of apprehension in her stomach at where this was leading to and somewhere in the depths of her mind, she's always known he'd ask. In a way, she's wanted him to.

"Would you ever want to live Fiona's life?" She's only ever thought those same exact words these past few days, but to hear it said out loud brought a chill down her spine. She could barely breathe; her mind serenely empty. No thoughts of Shrek, not even of her children; Felicia's squeal of laughter soft and muted as if coming from a far off world. "The_ real_ one, I mean."

"Picture waking up to a revolution everyday with a small army at your command," he continued and she half expected him to give her his best trademark sleazy smile to further sell his idea, only that was not the case. He was grim like she'd never seen him, eyes unwavering with the same longing she's only kept secret.

"A sword in your hand instead of clothespins."

The sword... she's dreamed of it. The handle worn smooth by her touch; her constant companion. Dreams of her fingers running over rough and battle worn greaves, securing the buckles... of her hand gripping the comforting reminder of a dagger at her thigh like a nervous habit... Fiona felt her eyes close like they often do whenever he speaks and a half-forgotten, familiar weight settled in the palm of her hand as if a sword had always been there. It wasn't until she brushed the empty space where her dagger should be did she realize she was dreaming again; a half-dream she falls into whenever he's near. A faded memory; those first few words of a song you can never remember and never forget.

"Feel what she felt."

She thought briefly of the last encounter Rumpelstiltskin described and how Fiona said the need for reality was just as nagging as the need for fantasy and wondered if this – _this moment_ – is what she meant. Maybe there wasn't a difference anymore. Maybe that once-was and never-could-be warrior felt the same around_ him_. Lately, she's felt as if she had one foot in each world; yearning for that taste of adventure solely written for her and yet... guilty that she'd ever consider leaving the life she loves so much to sample it.

"Come back... " His voice faltered almost as if he meant to say more but changed his mind.

A small and fleeting suspicion passed though her thoughts that perhaps Rumpelstiltskin didn't hate that warrior half as much as he would've liked to make her believe and simply didn't dare tell her because she couldn't – or maybe _wouldn't_ – come to terms with that reality. It doesn't matter now, of course; she never existed. Nothing but a 'what if'. A once upon a time. Never-was. Maybe that world is the only place that warrior could live... in a fantasy that believed it was reality...

_...or perhaps … it's always been the other way around. _

"I could make that happen, y'know..."

Fiona opened her eyes and found herself closer to the cage then she realized; his eyes focused on hers and waiting for her reply. "I would never pay the price for it."

"You wouldn't have to," he said slowly, almost carefully. "I'll pay it for you."

Fiona thought of Shrek who risked his life for her numerous times and her children whom she lives for every day. Friends laughing around the dinner table, the memory of her father and a mother who loves her dearly. Thought of anything she loved and needed just to outweigh the silly, selfish yearning that screamed at her to go back to a world she's never been to. It was nothing but a longing that never could be. Maybe that's what always been her problem... she's always _longed for a longing_. Beauty. Freedom. A kiss. A family... Now, she has nothing left to desire.

* * *

"No, Stiltskin."

A wave of déjà vu hit him like an icy wave through his heart; killing her. Putting to rest the woman he knew once upon a time. Buried her deep with nothing but a sword as a headstone because even in his mind, he'd like her to be nameless.

"This... is real. My life. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

_Real. _Rumpelstiltskin chuckled softy, more of a sigh than anything; the kind that sounds too exhausted to even bother. What's reality but something people accept when they think there's nothing more out there? He's lived long enough to know that no one wants real; not when there's the chance they could change their story. A once in a lifetime deal. That 'what if' floating in the back of the mind. Accepting reality would mean that nothing in his wretched wife was worth it. He's _paid so much.__.. _and never got what he wanted in return. After planning everything perfectly, pushing his cunning to the limit and living his life's dream – Rumpelstiltskin could _accept_ losing it all. He could, because he considered the possibility of failure. It's those little details in life one has to look out for after all. It prepares you for everything, several steps ahead of the rest.

Except... he's never wrote her in the details. No way possible; ink smears on skin... He remembered the way her body trembled with barely restrained laughter as he tired to keep a steady hand, racing his quill down the curve of her spine... writing words she'd never see and never dared to say aloud. He didn't prepare in gaining an occasional-friend, always-enemy, and constant-lover. Nothing could... and so... nothing could have prepared him for losing her as well.

"When you know there's something better out there, you don't want real," he insisted. Hoped. Begged. He wasn't so sure and it didn't matter. He didn't want real. Real meant living without her. He wasn't so sure he could; not like before. Hell – he doesn't even care if he'll never live the life of self-indulgence anymore. After living so long in a cage, _anything_ with leg room sounded like a luxury. Just having her back, even if it was a lie written in gold, would be enough. It was _something_. That small part of her etched into his skin... was all he had left to lose.

"My life _can't_ get any better than this." It was is a half-lie, he knew this. Or at least... hoped it was. Maybe she found comfort with the knowledge that some of it was true. He didn't.

He didn't reply because it wasn't the answer he wanted. And he hated her for it. Hated her bratty children and her ungrateful, undeserving husband. Even hated the 'no trespassing' sign that read like an insult. Maybe it's really over. Over since the day she left. He was just... just so tired; exhausted over the events and memories these past three days had given him. Funny how history repeats itself... Three days spinning gold, guessing games, and story telling. Just can't get rid of fairy tales. Maybe the trick is not trying.

Rumpelstiltskin broke eye contact, the longest yet they've ever had, and fixed his gaze on her playing children. Fiona's girl gave an distant, frustrated scream as her son knocked a chain of daises from her hands with a well aimed splatter of mud and the sounds of their wrestling grew louder to his senses; the world awakening once again. Back to reality. Bright and far too real to his tastes; lukewarm and bland without _her_ even if the mocking reminder was standing nearby. There's nothing more for him here and he wondered numbly why he even bothered.

_We're done here_, Fiona had once upon a time said when she walked out of a life that never-was.

"I guess we're done here," Rumpelstiltskin agreed and wiped whatever remaining rust that clung to the palms of his hands; sore from gripping the bars so tightly. He wasn't even so sure if his offer will stand in the future, but he wasn't going to waste the energy hoping. "This is goodbye, Fiona." And for the first time in a year... the cage swung open. Other than the expected tired creak and rust lifting away, it was almost disturbing how easily it gave in under his touch. He almost didn't believe it at first.

Fiona startled at the sound, a gasp escaping her lips as she took a step back. "How – has it been unlocked the whole time?" Fiona stammered with that little wrinkle of confusion around her nose he's often missed and will probably never get a chance to see again.

"Shrek," Rumpelstiltskin supplied before dropping down on solid earth, the first time in a year.

It came as a surprise too. Minutes before Fiona decided to take the kids outside and chat him up, Shrek stepped out their cottage, snapping the door behind him. There was a look of plain murder on his face and it wasn't hard to figure out that Shrek had found out about his late night dinners. Rumpelstiltskin wasn't a brave man, but he was ready for whatever Shrek decided to do to him. Couldn't do much about it anyway, could he? But instead of the strangulation he was sure to get – Shrek unlocked the door to his cage. "Git yeh gone before I get back, Rumpel." he had said and Rumpelstiltskin was in such a state of shock, words were beyond him. All those many days he's spent coming up with his 'Fuck-all and Fuck-you' farewell speech he saved just for the occasion, forgotten. He only hung upside down, mouth agape, wondering if he had heard right as Shrek stomped away. He assumed that it was just some cruel joke and wasn't going to try falling for it, but there it was. His freedom given so simply after what felt like a hundred years.

Rumpelstiltskin stretched his legs experimentally. It was going to be a long walk through the swamps before he'll come across some sort of road to hitchhike and it looked like it was going to be tiring on a pair of legs that haven't done more than sit and stand for a year. He wasn't looking forward to it. The long awaited victory skip would have to wait. Without another glance he turned away and started making his way down the path. No point lingering any longer. He might have lived like an animal for the past year, but he still had some dignity to walk away. He was a businessman after all.

"Rumpel! Can we - just _wait_." Fiona called out suddenly and he paused mid-step. He was tired of waiting, what more was there to really say? This is the end of a miserable chapter of his life. Seems like his life is full of endings.

He wanted to stop. Turn around. Listen to whatever she had to say or couldn't say. Maybe he just wanted to sit down and linger just a little while longer. Share a few more memories of the woman he misses everyday, no matter how much he's seen of her this past year. Live a real life instead of something fake and borrowed. He wanted a lot of things.

Rumpelstiltskin kept walking.

There's nothing wrong in wanting after all.

* * *

Thanks: So I wanna give a great big thanks to all those who reviewed! It kept me writing, even when I kinda wanted to stop at one point. Most importantly, I'd like to thank rawshark who's novel length reviews always made me smile and look at things in a different light to even further improve my writing. Couldn't have done it without ya!

Coming soon: As I've probably mentioned before, I'm not much of a writer. By that, I don't mean quality (although one can always improve), but rather my need to write. I've had to literally leave sticky notes on my mirror to guilt trip me into putting a few hours into writing. But writing all this has left me... strangely empty... and still wanting, y'know? But... I don't have any more plots swimming around. So... I intend (because I just _can't_ drop this pairing) to write a series of drabbles in the future. So... hope to see some readers coming back! Thanks again!

EDIT: OH SHIT SON! I was just now browsing the interwebs searching my username on the off chance that someone wrote something about my writing (oh yeah, I'm waaay shallow like that) and I come across fanfictionrec with this very story on the suggested list for people to download as an ebook. Gotta admit, that made my day. So... yay me! Thank you unknown stranger for suggesting it!


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